The Bloodsport of Life
by TheEgyptian26
Summary: Immediately follows the season 2 finale, and is where I would love to see season 3 go, because there WILL be a season 3. There just has to be! Spoilers for all episodes, rated M for future scenes. This will be a multi-chaptered story, so be patient with me!
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any these beautiful characters, they own themselves. Please note that all spelling errors in Holder's dialogue are intentional (Cause that guy is just too slick not to use slang.) I urge you all to write fan-fiction for this pair, there is TRUELY not enough of it for my liking. Any-who, please enjoy and review!

* * *

Linden closes the phone with a snap and sighs. Her breath fogs before her in the cold air but quickly disappears into the lightly falling rain. Hours have passed since she left Holder to take the call of that body near Sea-Tac, her mind limp with exhaustion at the thought of a new case. She chose instead to leave him to it, and she was so grateful that he didn't ask her questions when she got out of the car, but he knew her better than that. He knew she needed some time. Just as he had known that she needed to watch the film of Rosie by herself, or sit in the calm and dark of their office. _"Sensei knows best."_ She thought with a smile.

She had walked around aimlessly after leaving the Larson's, the events of the past month replaying in her mind. It was nearly noon when she found herself walking by the marina where Reggie lived. Linden thought dimly of going and telling Reggie that she had done it, she had solved the case that had so nearly broken her. But she didn't. Discovering the truth behind Rosie Larson's death and learning of the tragic haplessness that caused it had hurt and rattled Linden. An innocent girl hunted and beaten for no other reason than that she had heard something she should not have. The injustice of it stung Linden and made her skin crawl.

After hearing Terry say the truth about what happened that night Linden did not feel the sense of closure that she had been expecting, a thing she had craved from this case for so long. Terry's cries for forgiveness still rang through her ears and bitter tears began to well in her eyes, though she blames these on the gusting wind. In honesty Linden feels nothing but pity for the aunt, she was a weak woman who made a choice out of greed and ignorance, and Terry will spend the rest of her life grieving the decisions of that night by the lake.

She walked on past the Marina and stopped at a coffee place for a hot drink and a snack. She orders and goes to sit outside on a bench, her hood up against the drizzle from the grey clouds above. Linden takes a long sip of her steaming black coffee, savors it on her tongue then swallows. With an apprehensive inhale she takes the cell phone from out of her pocket and makes the phone call she has been rehearsing in her head for an hour. Jack answers after only a few rings and she smiles to hear the giddiness in his voice as he begins to tell her all the things he and his father have been up too. She just sits and listens with a grin on her face. She'll tell him they solved the case after.

* * *

All Linden wants now is a hot bath. She'd sat outside that coffee house talking to Jack for well over an hour, all the while getting colder and damper. It was mid afternoon now but already the sky was darkening, any light blocked by the thick cloud cover. She thought morosely of renting another motel room for the night, but as the image of her sitting alone in a dull and dingy room floated to the surface of her mind, she cringed. Just then she saw a cab dropping of it's fair on the sidewalk right in front of her and without thinking she waves for it to wait. She jumps in with a huff and gives the driver Holder's address.

Using the key hidden under the green pot Linden shows herself into Holder's apartment, putting it back in its place before closing and locking the door behind her. She takes off her wet coat and throws it over a chair to dry, kicking off her boots as she does this. A small duffle bag of her clothes lies open on the couch and she walks towards it and begins digging for a dry sweater and a pair of jeans. She finds them and lays them on the armrest, then turns and heads towards the bathroom, shrugging off the woolen sweater and throwing it on the floor as she goes.

She sinks into the shallow tub with a hiss and submerges as deep as possible, her skin now comfortably cloaked by the hot liquid. Her hair is loose and clings to her shoulders and breasts, the color of red growing darker in the water. Linden lets out another huge sigh as she at last allows the events and memories of the past few weeks to engulf her completely. Tears roll out of her eyes and unbidden sobs crawl up her throat. She folds her arms around herself and just lies like that for a time, rocking slightly as all the unwanted emotions bubble over and she cries herself into silence. Without even washing her hair Linden pulls the plug of the tub and stands, reaching for her towel.

So weak from weariness she dries herself and stumbles into her clothes. Deciding against the jeans she reaches deep into her duffle bag and pulls out her pajama pants, patterned with penguins in Santa hats, a Christmas gift from Jack last year. After putting on a thick pair of socks she pushes the bag off from the couch and curls up on the plush cushions, a sleeping bag draped over her. Punching the pillow into place she sighs once more and listens to the soft patter of rain against the window. Linden imagines the look of surprise Holder will undoubtedly wear when he comes home to find her passed out in his living room, and smiles contentedly at the thought.

* * *

She wakes hours later and looks out the window to see that the sun has set now, the darkness outside broken only by the lights of the far building across the street. Stretching with a yawn she reaches for her phone and checks the time. Almost ten o'clock. She had thought Holder would be home by now, but figures this new case must have proved time consuming. The loud grumble that irrupts from her stomach brings to her attention that, other than the muffin she had bought with her coffee this afternoon, she had eaten hardly at all today.

With another leisurely stretch Linden stands from the couch, cracks her back and walks lazily to the fridge. It was surprisingly well stocked. She tries to imagine Holder grocery shopping and smiles again, almost laughing at the selection of fine cheeses he has in the crisper. She closes the refrigerator and moves on to the cupboards, where after some searching she finds a box of spaghetti and soon after a jar of tomato sauce. She digs through the drawer under the oven until at last pulling free two pots, one small one large. Filling the larger one with water she sets it atop the stove to boil then pours the sauce into the smaller pot and leaves it to simmer.

She had just found the strainer to drain the pasta when she heard the clicking of a key in the lock. Linden was bent over searching through the fridge for the Parmesan cheese she could have sworn she'd spotted earlier, when Holder swung open the door. They both froze in surprise for a moment before a wide grin split Holder's previously weary face. He doesn't even seem surprised to see her here.

"Daym Linden, I know I said keep in touch but..." He trailed off sarcastically and threw his keys on the counter, shrugging off his coat and throwing it over hers on the chair. He spots the pots on the stove and smacks his lips. "Yum, what's for dinner?"

She smiles at his casual acceptance of her breaking into his home and tells him its spaghetti. "Can't find the Parm though."

"Top shelf, behind the peanut butter." He says without missing a beat. He takes a seat on the stools across the counter with a groan.

Linden bends again and finds the shaker hidden behind the large tub of chunky peanut butter. She grabs it a closes the fridge door with her foot. "You know peanut butter doesn't have to be refrigerated."

"My house, my rules. Here, we like our butta cold." He grins again and pulls out a new pack of cigarettes.

She swats her hand in his direction, "Oy, we're about to eat here. You can bust a lung later." She watches him shrug and grumble something about _his rules_, but as she turns back to the stove she sees him put the pack back in his sweatshirt pocket.

"Yeah yeah yeah, you're just jealous cause you want one."

"I know. Now where are the plates?"

He stands and comes around into the kitchen, opening a top cupboard and pulling out two large round dishes. He sets them on the counter and weaves around Linden to get to the cutlery drawer. She nearly bumps into him when taking the steaming pot to the sink to strain and snaps for him to move. He raises his hands in mock surrender and saunters back to take a seat once more on the stools, leaning to grab two napkins out of a dispenser and placing them neatly beside the plates. He starts to explain the case he'd been dealing with today, and it sounds simple enough. Young guy found robbed and shot in the head at close range, the gun found discarded a ways off from the body. Prints are being run through the system now. She dished up both their plates as he spoke, and found herself surprised at the ease with which her interest could be peaked onto another case, though she really couldn't afford to let it. She thinks he might have sensed her uneasiness in the conversation, because Holder changed the subject.

"Talked to little man lately?" He asked innocently, shaking a mountain of Parmesan cheese atop his already bulbous pile of pasta and sauce. Linden pulls up a stool opposite him and grabs the shaker away with a playful sneer. "Oh, please, ladies first." He says jokingly.

She chuckles. "Yeah, I did, a couple of hours ago."

He chews and waits for her to elaborate. She doesn't. "...And? How's Chicago?" Holder pauses, "How's everything with the Pops?" He looks down at his food as he says it.

Linden chews and swallows before answering. "Good, both good. They went to a football game last week apparently."

Holder snorts and genuinely scowls. "Jack wouldn't like football. Any game where it takes ten minutes for two minutes to pass on the clock isn't a sport, it's torture."

Linden laughed out loud and nearly spat out her mouthful of spaghetti. Holder looks momentarily surprised, then smiles with pride that he made her laugh. Jack had said the same exact thing, almost verbatim, on the phone earlier today, and she tells Holder as much.

He grins wider. "See? Told ya. _Dad knows best_ my ass." He throws another forkful into his mouth and sighs. They sit in comfortable silence save for the scratch of cutlery for a while.

Holder finishes his plate first and stands, walking to the sink to rinse it. "When's Jack comin' home anyway? Now the Larsen case is done I mean."

Linden wipes her mouth with a napkin and stands too, taking the place beside him at the sink. "Not sure yet. I'm going to fly up there for a few days, figure this whole situation out from there."

He drops his plate in the sink and the sound surprises her. She looks up to meet his face and he's staring down a her, something akin to worry across his face. He sees her raised eyebrows and quickly puts on a mask of indifference.

"Why you gotta go to Chicago to do that? I mean, can't you just figure it out here?" He picks up the plate, places it to the side and grabs her dirty one away from her.

She'd already thought it all over earlier today, and this seemed the only logical way to go. "Well, I could, but..." She pauses and tries to find the words, leaning against the counter to look at him wash the dishes. "Jack seems pretty happy there and... And I guess I just want to see that, for myself."

Holder's been scrubbing the plate that was not even that dirty to begin with for far too long now. He doesn't look at her. "So are you gunna, like, move there then? If he likes it there so much?" He asks as nonchalantly as possible, but she stills sees the flicker of worry that crosses his face again.

They stand in silence as she watches him, and at last he looks over at her. She grins. "And miss out on all the sunshine Seattle has to offer?" She gestures to the dark window spattered with hard rain. "I think not."

His face clears instantly and he puts the plate aside to dry, diving the scrubber into a pot now. "Good." They both nod. "So you'll go to Chicago for a few days... Then what?"

"Well, I had some time to think about that actually." She drums her fingers against the countertop. "I'll figure out the situation with Jack and his father, come home and find us an apartment." Quite a simple explanation for such daunting tasks, but it's the best she's got right now.

"And work?" She looks at him sharply and he shrugs, "Don't make no deference to me, Linden, only Carlson was asking 'bout you today."

"And what did you tell him?"

He shrugs again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, always the jitterbug. "I told him you needed a break."

She doesn't say anything to that, even though she is thoroughly relieved, and he doesn't push her to. He never does.

"Anyway, it sounds like a good plan, but you know you can stay here as long as you need Linden, for real." Again he doesn't make eye contact as he says it, almost as if he were shy.

She nods and smiles to herself. Leaning away from the counter she grabs a cloth and stands beside him again, beginning to dry the dishes he'd been washing. "I'm really glad you said that, cause my flight probably won't be for a few days. I think I just need some time to... I dunno, do nothing."

He nods once. "Doing nothing works. I think we can all agree you deserve a break after... After how it all went down." They fall into silence again as they wash and dry the remaining dishes. Holder makes a few of his usual little comments to which Linden will smile, and they begin to talk about nothing in particular. They finish up and he puts on a kettle for tea and they settle down on his couch, Linden taking only a few sips of the hot liquid that tasted to her like hay. Holder watches this and smiles into his mug. The conversation inevitably turns to the Larsen case, a subject both seemed to have been avoiding throughout the night.

"I mean, I just don't get it, y'know?" Holder says after a patch of silence, clearly finishing off a thought that had struck him. "After all this... _Shit_ we've gone through. All the fake leads, my casino gang bang, your-" He cuts off and she looked over at him. He swirls his tea bag in his mug. "Where they put you." He finishes, "It was all cause Rosie heard something that little prick Jamie didn't want her too. It just seems so... Trivial." Holder's voice was as cold as she had heard it when he spoke of Jamie, and she realized that they hadn't really _talked_ about what happened in that office, what Jamie had forced Holder to do.

Linden sighs deeply and places her cooling tea on the coffee table before them. Shifting her body on the black couch she turns and faces him completely, her legs pulled up to her chest. He doesn't move but they both know she's watching him.

"He gave you no choice Holder. Jamie was weak and he knew his time was up. I think he was ready to die." She wasn't sure if what she had said had helped, or made any difference at all. He did not react to it. She continues, "You did what you'd been trained to do, you thought he was going to shoot you and-"

He cuts her off. "I didn't think he was going to shoot me. He was aiming at you, Linden, I thought he was gunna shoot you." Holder glances up at her, and then quickly back at the half empty mug in his hands.

She watches as he squirms uncomfortably under her stare. She thinks back to the first day that they had met, and all the judgments she had made of him. He's worked so hard to prove her wrong and in his own way he has, because she does trust him. Not completely, no, but a part of her can admit that she may never be able to trust anyone _completely_, not after the upbringing she'd endured. She's accepted his presence in her life and enjoys it, though she would never admit it to him. Or perhaps she would, because she knows it would make him happy.

"Thank you." She says, completely genuine. "Really Holder, thank you. You've done so much for me and Jack and... Well, anyway, thanks." She trails off, surprising herself with the tenderness she feels for him in this moment. He looks at her like she had just said the words he had been craving to hear. He breaks their eye contact and she's sad for it.

"Well, whatever. The gun was empty anyway." He shrugs.

"You had no way of knowing that Holder." She pauses for a moment, then continues on boldly. "I would have done the same thing, you know? If I believed he meant to shoot you, I would've taken him down without a second thought. It's just what partners do for each other."

They sit and stare at one another for a long while. She's stunned at how content she is in this silence. She thinks back to the times she had sat with Rick, him looking over patients' files and her typing out reports. As much as she had tried to ignore it, there had been an awkward undercurrent in those moments, as though she didn't know how to be silent with him. He would glance up every now and again, as though checking on her, and they would both smile weakly and return to their work. But sitting here with Holder, having one of their first serious conversations that doesn't pertain to the case, is blissfully comfortable.

The conversation moves on from the Larsen case and they fall into easy banter, neither realizing the lateness of the hour until Holder stifles a yawn. "You should really be sleeping, you know?" She tells him, "You're still on the mend."

"What, these?" He gestures to the side with his broken ribs, "These ain't nothing but a thaang, Linden."

She snorts with laughter. "Well that's good to hear. But you still look pretty battered, so I'm sure some sleep wouldn't kill you."

Holder rolls his eyes, "Whatever you say moms." They both rise from the couch and stretch, Linden's face breaking into a yawn that passed to Holder. They take their turns in the bathroom and say goodnight to each other, Holder passing through the doorway to his bedroom without closing the door. She settles herself onto the couch, though he had offered to take it and let her have the bed. She had declined, insisting he had done enough good deeds for one day. She hears him doing the same in his room, punching his pillow and crumpling his covers. It feels incredibly intimate, listening to him in his bed, and she could feel her cheeks flush. She wonders if he's listening for her right now, and is immediately curious as to what his thoughts might be if he were. Is he blushing too? No, probably not, knowing him he's most likely asleep already.

She shuffles in her sleeping bag and finds a comfortable position, and soon is falling quickly into welcomed sleep. Linden has no way of knowing that Holder had in fact been listening for her just as she had listened to him, feeling that same intimacy this innocent act brought. Or that he fell asleep that night with a smile on his face, and her words in his mind, _"It's just what partners do for each other."_

_xx_


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up to the beautiful smell of brewing coffee. Looking through squinted eyes she spots Holder busying himself in the kitchen, his 'Original Grilla' apron tied firmly in place. He'd closed the blinds so the sun wasn't poring in, but still it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. He spots her movements and nods in greeting, "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty, breakfast's almost ready."

Linden grumbles. "What we having?" She stands from the couch, stretches and groans, then walks over to the brewing coffee pot.

"We got my famous three-cheese-loaded-omlette, with green peppers, sausage, mushrooms-" He looks quickly over at her, pointing the spatula at her chest, "You like mushrooms, right?"

She nods and grabs two mugs from the cupboard. "My favorite type of fungi."

"Good, cause I used a lot of 'em."

Linden pours the steaming coffee into the two mugs, filling her own nearly to the brim, but leaving plenty of room in the other. After dumping no less than five spoonfuls of sugar into the mug and giving it a quick stir she adds the milk. She passes the creamy brown coffee to Holder who accepts it with a quick _thanks, _takes a gulp and then returns to the omelettes on the stove. Linden grabs some plates and cutlery before taking a spot on one of the stools, her warm mug of black coffee cupped between both hands.

He forks one of the loaded omelettes onto her plate and then the other onto his own, offering her a bottle of ketchup which she takes, uses, and hands back. Again they fall into friendly banter, neither bothering to stop talking while they chew. She asks him if there had been any progress on his case during the night and he said that yes, there had been. The prints on the gun were already in the system, matching a guy named Tobias 'T-biz' Williams (Holder scoffs at the nickname) who already has several priors out on him. "Not much investigation skills needed on this one."

Holder says the station will call when Williams' arrest warrant goes through and they'll snag him at his house. "I doubt it'll go down that smooth though," He admits, "From the rap sheet this kid has on him, he don't seem like the type to come easy."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you can handle him." She says between mouthfuls of delicious three-cheesy, eggy goodness.

He looks at her with mock incredulity and she can't help but smile, her cheeks full of omelette. "Course I can handle him, thug like that don't got the skills I got."

Linden chews. "No doubt, no doubt." She says, parroting his lingo.

He snorts into his omelette.

* * *

They finish their breakfast and he quickly whips up the few dishes they'd made. It's nearly nine o'clock so Holder jumps in the shower. Linden pours herself a third cup of coffee and starts perusing the books and old copies of National Geographic Holder has in his 'knowledge corner', though is prevented from enjoying any articles by the fact that nearly every other page has had a picture or paragraph cut out of it.

"Hey Holder?" She shouts down the hall. She turns to see him opening the bathroom door with a towel tied around his waist. He really was skinny, but it was in no way off putting. She saw a large tattoo scrawled just below his collarbone, but the calligraphy letters were to far away to read. It was a surprise seeing the dark ribbon of ink there, because she had not known he had that tattoo. His chest was flat, but the shadow of muscle definition could be seen in his arms and abs, because Holder had abs. Linden's breath caught in her throat as she saw the bruises all over him, and the massive purple and green welt over his right ribs where those casino shits had cracked them. She could tell even as he stood in the doorway that he still favored his left leg, and a flood of anger at herself and the Chief bubbled in her stomach like bile.

He was ruffling a towel over his short hair to dry it, the other hand holding the knot of the towel at his waist. He waits for her to continue, but she is still stunned into silence at the feelings this sight was sending through her. He smacks his lips, "Yo, what's up?"

She blinks. "Oh, ah... Yeah, I was just wondering, what's with the magazines?" She holds one up to show him the tattered paper, "They've all been mauled."

He chuckles and turns to throw the small towel he'd been using to dry his hair in the hamper, "Yeah, I was really into collaging for a while."

She snorts, but he seems serious enough. "You're joking."

"Nah, Linden, artistic expression is the key to a happy life." She raises her eyebrows and he shrugs, the muscles in his neck and chest straining, "I'm a hobbiest, what can I say?"

She closes the magazine and puts it back on the shelf. "Oh yeah, what other hobbies you got?" Linden realizes that this is one of the few questions she had asked him about his character, it was usually _him_ asking _her_ things. She finds herself genuinely interested in his answer, however.

"Oh y'know; the ladies, catchin' bad guys, havin' swag. Usual stuff." She's not disappointed, that had truly been a classic Holder response.

He turns into his bedroom and closes the door to get dressed for work, but she notices he doesn't lock it. With an adolescent thrill she thinks about barging in on him and kissing that tattoo on his chest. She shakes her head hard to rid that thought from her mind. _You're a grown woman for gods sake, you've seen half-naked men before. _But not Holder. _No, you haven't seen half-naked Holder before._

Linden finishes her coffee and tries to plan some activities to fill her day. She decides it has been far too long since she had a run, a _good _run, and goes to her bag to dig out her running clothes and shoes. Holder comes out of his room dressed in his usual baggy jeans and a loose grey hoodie. He stops and watches her throw her wild hair up in a ponytail, pulling it taught against her scalp. "Going for a run, looks like."

"Yep," She bends to tie her laces, "Gotta do something to occupy my time, right?"

"Trudat." He turns into the kitchen and heads for the coffee pot, only to take it out and find it practically empty. He gestures the empty pot in her direction and tilts his head, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

She grimaces guiltily, "Oh, I could make another pot?"

He snorts and says not to worry about it. "We share our coffee in this dojo. I'll just grab one on the way."

They leave the apartment together, Sarah waiting while Holder jingles with his keys and locks the door, her hands deep in her pockets. He coughs as she leads the way down the stairs, "Y'know you should really come with me on a run sometime, you'd hate it but it'd be good for you." _Why did you say that? You hate running with people. _

"Good one Linden, you're a real comedian." He takes hurried steps to keep up with her. Seeing the annoyed frown on her face he continues, "How 'bout I start running when _you_ quit smoking?"

Sarah scoffs audibly, "How about _I_ quit smoking when _you _quit smoking?"

"Ah, but see, that just doesn't seem as fun somehow."

Holder reaches the door first and holds it open, Linden walking clear under the outstretched arm. She squints against the bright glare off the clouds, Holder does the same. They both walk to the car parked just outside and Holder fumbles again with his keys.

"Hey," She says just as he unlocks the door and swings it open, "Tell Carlson I'll call him tomorrow, let him know I'm taking a few days off."

"Aight, you got it." He waits a second and doesn't say anything.

"Well I'll see you later." She starts to turn, but he calls over the car "Yo Linden, you ah... You got any official plans tonight?"

She smirks. "Official plans? No, why?"

"I dunno," She hears him scuff his shoe against the pavement, "How 'bout we watch a movie or somethin', when I'm off I mean."

She blinks against the overhead glare. "Sure, yeah."

Holder smiles. "Good stuff. Aight boss, I'll bring the popcorn, you bring that lively sense of humor I've been enjoying this last month."

She sighs, amused. "Sounds like a plan. You got my number, right?" Sarah says, backing away from the car with a smirk.

For just a second his face looks confused but as she breaks into a grin he realizes she's joking.

Holder laughs out loud. "Damn, Sarah Linden with jokes to spare."

They are both snickering as he steps into the car and puts the key in the ignition, but before he closes the door he shouts after her "I knew some sleep 'uld do you good."

* * *

She runs for a solid hour before taking a break to stop at a corner store. There she buys the newspaper, a ridiculous looking paperback novel and a pack of gum. Sarah pops open the pack and throws a piece in her mouth as she leaves the store, walking the last few blocks back to Holder's place. She had done a loop around the immediate neighborhood and found it wasn't as bad as he had made it out to be, at least not in the early day. It was nearer to Jack's school than her old place had been, and wasn't even that far from the station. Maybe there were some apartments near here that could work for her and Jack. She has to keep her mind open if she plans on moving anywhere in a hurry.

Linden makes it back to the place in good time and grabs the key from the pot again. This time she doesn't bother putting it back, deciding instead to just put it on her own keys. For now. She throws the bag from the corner store on the counter and makes for the sink where she splashes a quick handful of water across her face. After that she heads to the bathroom, shrugging off her clothes, where she takes a long hot shower. Forced to use soap because Holder doesn't have any shampoo, Linden steps out of the tub to see her soaking red hair is wild and tangled in the mirror. She searches the bathroom for a brush to no avail and gives up, wrapping the towel around herself as she heads out of the bathroom to dig the brush out of her duffle bag.

She starts the wasting of the next few hours by perusing todays newspaper, a large black and white photograph of Rosie Larson taking up much of the front page. The heading read **'The Larsen Teen's Killer Found After Shooting at City Hall' **and under that in the sub caption: '_Campaign Advisor Wright Proven as Accomplice in Tragic Twist.' _Linden puts down the paper after reading only half of the article that followed, hating hearing Holder and herself spoken of in the quotes given by Carlson and Mayor Richmond as if they were nameless drones. She folds the paper and leaves it on the counter, fully intending to show it to Holder when he gets home so that he may share in her disgust.

It takes only one chapter for her to tire of the book she bought, a murder-mystery-romance called _The Ivory Rose_. Her intentions had been good, she'd meant to settle in and spend the day lost in an easy read. It had seemed a reasonable enough idea at the time, though sitting here now she found herself restless. Sarah throws the book aside, not bothering to mark her place, and reaches for her phone. It is nearly two o'clock in the afternoon, which means that in Chicago Jack will have just gotten home from school. She flips open the phone and calls her son.

* * *

Linden thinks she surprised Jack when she told him what she had done today.

"So you've really just been sitting there, doing nothing? All day?"

"Yep. Well, almost, I have done a few things. I ate breakfast, went for a run-"

"What'd you have?"

"What?"

"For breakfast, what'd you have?"

"Oh, ah, an omelette-"

"The three-cheese-loaded-omelette?"

Sarah snorts with laughter "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Holder says it's the best egg related breakfast he makes."

"And how do you know I didn't make it?"

"Mom, come on." She chuckles and hears him do the same on the other line.

There's silence for a minute and she thinks about all the things she had wished she could say to Jack while locked away in the psychiatric ward of that hospital. They flood her mind now and she has the overwhelming urge to just tell him everything. Not about the case but about what the case had done to her, how lost she had become and how terribly she'd neglected him as a result. Linden wouldn't tell him about the days she spent in the hospital, she would save him from that unnecessary burden, at the very least until she could see him in person. She decides that her son deserves an explanation, one which she can start right now.

"Listen, Sweetie, I owe it to you to... To tell you what's been going on the past little while, why our lives have been so crazy. Can I tell you a little about that now?" She tries to keep the quiver out of her voice.

There is silence on the line, until she hears a faint _"Mhmm" _from the other end.

With a deep sigh she starts to tell him, bit by bit so as not to overload him, about her frame of mind in this past month. She leaves some things out of course, going into very little detail of the Larsen case, and even less into the seventy-two hours that he had been unable to reach her. But the basic things, the _important things_, Sarah does include. She pauses every breath to make sure he's still there, which he always is, just quiet and thoughtful.

"Was it like last time?" The vulnerability in her sons voice nearly broke her. It caused so much pain to know that Jack still held that time of their lives in mind, she's wished so badly that he could forget it all. If her upbringing and career had taught Sarah anything, however, it was that children in these situations often recall the things they'd wish to forget clearer than those worth remembering. It had been over three years and everyday it eats at her that she had been weak enough to allow herself to fall so far from reality. And she had very nearly done it again.

She swallows and answers, "No, sweetie, not that bad, I ah... I got some help before it went that far. Luckily I had Holder, he kept me on my toes, don't worry." She adds on a lighter note.

"Yeah, I told him to take care of you while I was gone." She smiled sadly that Jack felt he needed to take care of her at all, but didn't say it.

"You did? And when did you tell him that?"

"When I called him to say I was coming here. He said he'd make sure to remember to feed and walk you and stuff."

_Of couse he did._ "How kind of you both to think of me." They laughed again.

"So you're still gunna be...hanging out with Holder then, now the case is done?" There was a not so subtle hint of curiosity in Jack's voice, though he tried hard to hide it.

Linden furrows her brow. "Of course. We work together, he's my partner."

"Okay... Cool."

They finish off the conversation with Linden telling him of her apartment hunting plans, and that she'll start the search with places near his school. He orders her to take pictures of them for his approval before making any decisions. Sarah promises that she will.

* * *

Holder's sitting in his car, hunched low in the seat and peering through narrowed eyes at the building he's surveilling. Him and a squad car had waited outside Tobias Williams' place of residence for over two hours before he'd decided to leave them and go stakeout another one of T-Biz's reportedly frequented places on his own. Which is where he found himself now, facing a derelict brick warehouse where Williams and his crew have been known to holdup in before. Holder let's his head loll back against the headrest. He's still chewing a piece of gum he'd found in one of Linden's discarded packs, though it has long since lost it's flavor. The minty smell reminded him of her.

He thinks of lighting up another cigarette but he doesn't, too lazy to reach across the seat and grab his pack. Holder's so bored. He misses Linden, even if she is cold and unresponsive on stakeouts. At least it had been someone to talk to, even if _he_ had been the only one actually doing the talking. A small smile crosses his face at the thought that she was just hanging out in his apartment right now, maybe watching some T.V., waiting for him to get off. He decides that as soon as he can he'll skip out and head home early.

Right then the phone inside his pocket rings and he quickly reaches for it, grateful for anything that could break this silence he's been stewing in. He reads the display on the phone, _Little Linden, _and opens it with a exuberant hello to Jack.

"Yo what's up Little Man, knew you'd miss me. How's the city life treating you?"

Jack chuckles, "Um, good I guess. I've had a few days at the school here now, it seems okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's normal, high school sucks no matter where y'go." They laugh together. Holder asks him if he's made many friends and Jack says yes, he just hung out with a bunch of them last night actually. They went and sat around at a park.

"Didn't get up to any monkey business I hope, cause that would be the last thing your moms needs right now, hearing you burned down a park on the evening news." Holder drums the fingers of his hand across the steering wheel.

"Nah, don't worry. I'd tell her before it hit the newsstands."

They both snicker at that. "Speakin' of, you talked to your mom yet today? She'd probably love to hear from yah."

"Yeah, I talked to her after I got home from school." Jack paused, "It was weird, hearing her say all that stuff..." He trailed off, as if uncertain if he even wanted to talk about it.

Holder's interest was immediately peaked. "All what stuff?"

"Well you know, she told me that she's been going through a hard time... with whatever you guys were working on. She says it wasn't as bad as the last time but... But that's why we've been moving around and stuff."

"Did she say anything about Sonoma?" He didn't know what made him ask it, it was so not the time. He cringed but waited for the answer anyway.

"Nope, she didn't say anything about Rick either. I think that's, like, over. For good."

'_She's your responsibility now.' _"Yeah, maybe it is."

"She did say we'd be looking for places kinda close to where you live though, cause it's closer to my school. Which is good, cause I really hated taking the bus."

_Linden and Linden moving in down the block. _A wide grin spreads over his cheeks. _I could deal with that. _"Well you'd be a welcome addition to the neighborhood, Little Man. You and your moms both."

xx

A/N Review, review, review!


	3. Chapter 3

_Well here it is, Holder's chapter! Initially I had planned on doing this story just from Linden's POV, but being inside Holder's head is just so much fun! I will probably be switching back and forth between the two. Anyway, please enjoy and review!_

* * *

Holder heads back to Williams' house to lead the search with the other uniforms. They break down the door to find the place a disheveled mess, clearly ransacked in a hurry. Dresser drawers hanging open and empty, kitchen tossed and cupboards bare, couch cushions thrown across the room. Stephen smells _it_ on the walls and is not surprised when he sees an officer open a drawer and pull out a glass pipe, brown from use. His hand twitches and he plunges it into his pocket, turning to take in the rest of the room. Lying alone on the bed was a suitcase, it's lid closed but unzipped. Holder takes the short steps to the bed and flips open the lid. The lining of the bag was cut, the black nylon material frayed and torn.

Stephen takes a peek inside, not seeing anything still hidden in the secret compartment made by the fabric. Holder calls for the officer to get the bag into evidence, take it apart and test it for prints and drug residue, before heading into the bathroom. After giving the vanity cupboard a quick look he heads to the toilet and lifts the lid from the back. He finds the tank drained.

"Hey," He gestures for the nearest uniform, "Call the evidence guys, tell 'em they'll need to check this," He points at the toilet "Williams might've flushed some o' those balloons he got hidden in the suitcase before splitting, wouldn't risk taking 'em all if he's heading for the border."

Holder oversees the remainder of the search until the lab guys get there and bust open the toilet. Sure enough they find no less than half a dozen little balloons in the piping. They say they'll take it to the lab to be sure, but it looks like heroine. Holder whistles and shuffles his feet, feeling that guilty _itch. _He's seen drugs packaged like this before and are usually meant for mules to carry discreetly_. _

"Williams' probably meant for the vic to carry those, bigger bricks were sewn into the suitcase I bet. Maybe making a shipment somewhere, would explain why they found the body dumped near Sea-Tac, drug mule deal gone wrong." Stephen says more to himself then the officer behind him, who was scrawling down everything he said.

"Hey Mercer," Holder calls to the senior officer "Make a call to our guy at the airport, see if they've found our vic's name on any of the flights yet. If not check on any smaller flights that were missed or delayed in the past two days. I bet our guy was supposed to be on one, he was definitely headed somewhere. Call me when you get something."

"You got it."

"Great, hey you think you can wrap up this scene without me, man? I got some place I need'a be."

"No problem, get out 'o here. You might want to call Carson though, I think he's keeping tabs on you." Mercer says, shrugging sympathetically as he takes out his phone to make the call.

There's a vibrating in Holder's pocket and he reaches to take out his own phone. The little blue screen reads _Linden._

Holder flips open the phone. "Yo, just heading home now, what's up?"

"Thank god. Your t.v. is broken, you know? The damn thing doesn't have sound."

Stephen sighs, amused, "Hold up a sec." He takes the phone away from his ear and covers the mouth piece. "Yo Chove," He shouts after the rookie bumbling behind Mercer with his notebook. "Make me a copy of those notes, I wanna see 'em in the case file tomorrow along with the lab and autopsy results. Also, ask 'round with the neighbors, see if anyone remembers the last time they saw our Mr. Williams. Call me if anything comes up."

He returns the phone to his ear as he hears Chove groan. "Sorry, back. And it's not broken, you just dunno how to use it."

"Well I've tried everything Holder, and now its stuck on the menu thing." He can tell she's frustrated, which just makes him smile.

"Okay, well stop fiddling with it. I'll be there in a few, I can teach you how to use it then." She agrees with a '_humph' _and they hang up just as Stephen hops in his car.

* * *

He gets home to find her sitting at his laptop on the couch, the t.v. remotes discarded beside her. "Whatcha doin'?" Holder asks, shrugging off his thick coat and throwing it aside. He kicks off his boots before going and taking a seat on the couch beside her, picking up the remotes so as not to sit on them. He sees she's on flight information and his stomach drops a little. He blinks away the thoughts he'd first had when Linden said she was going to Chicago, _'What if she moves there? What if Jack and her just up and move there, she was gunna move away with Rick anyway, nothing's keeping her here' _and puts his feet up on the coffee table.

"Just looking over the flights, I'm leaving in two days, on the Friday." She says, not raising her eyes from the glow of the screen.

"Cool, cool. When you comin' back?" Stephen asks it as nonchalantly as he can, though his feet give away his anxiety as they start to twitch restlessly.

She hums as she thinks, "Not sure, I'm not going to book a return flight, just in case I have to stay longer."

_No return flight. _Holder thinks morosely, _the beginning of the end._ He grunts his approval.

"Anyway," Linden exits out of the page and closes the laptop "How's the case going? By the sounds of it over the phone you seem pretty on top of it."

Holder thinks about that for a minute. "Yeah, I guess I am. It's a pretty basic case though," He shrugs "Vic's probably a drug mule for our guy Williams, or whosever he's workin' for. Waiting on the autopsy still."

"And no sign of Williams?"

"Nah, house was sacked so he's probs gone by now. Put an APB out on him though, if he gets snagged they'll gimme a call."

Linden nods and purses her lips. He could tell she was itching to get her hands on the case file, if only to be able to throw her two cents in. He decides it's time to change the subject.

"So," He claps his hands expectantly, "What movie you wanna watch?"

* * *

"So he was dead the whole time?"

"Mhmm."

"But he talked to people."

"Nah, he didn't, just the kid."

Sarah sits on the couch, her feet still up on his lap, and purses her lips in thought.

"Jesus Linden, how had you not seen that? It's, like, embarrassing you don't already know this."

"Yeah yeah, so you've said. Pretty good twist though, I guess." She admits.

"Oh you were scared, don't even _try _and deny it."

"In my defense, you lied, you said it was a comedy." Linden smirks and raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, you should've known better. I mean it's _The Sixth Sense _Linden, come on." He reaches for one of the last pieces of the pizza they'd ordered earlier and folds it to take a bite. She motions to him and he wordlessly passes her another piece, Linden folding it in half just the same.

Holder leans against the arm of the couch then fidgets and reaches behind him, a pained expression crossing his face. His brow furrows and he pulls from out of the cushions a small paper back book. Linden blinks and cringes as she sees an elated grin spread across his hollow cheeks. "What... What is _this?"_

Linden sniffs and bites her lip, an embarrassed smile creeping in the corners. "Oh, that... That's nothing."

"_The Ivory Rose?_ Damn Linden, if I'd known you were so desperate for a good read I'd have recommended one for ya."

"Oh ha ha. I thought I might try it, didn't pan out though."

"Dull?"

"Ugh, _so dull."_

Holder throws his head back and laughs. "Thats cause these books are terrible. My sister used to buy 'em all the time, she loved 'em. Still does I think."

"Maybe it's just a girl thing." She shrugs, wanting to grab the book and throw it out the window.

"Yeah, maybe. Yet another mystery of the modern woman."

* * *

Stephen thinks how nice it is to see _this _Linden, not the stressed and tired and scared one that's been working the case with him for weeks. _This _Linden laughs, maybe not easily but she can still crack a grin or two. He wishes so badly Jack could be here with them right now, eating pizza and talking shit, just so he could see the difference in his mom. She was still reserved, he didn't think any amount of humor could change that, and he still looked over at her to find her face clouded in thought. But her aura had changed, and he liked it.

Holder remembers what Regi said, about Sarah getting lost in her cases and putting everything else aside. He'd seen that, watched as her curiosity turned to frenzy and paranoia, but never for a second had he thought she'd lost it. Even if she had, he still would have been there, he knows it. While he was lying in the middle of the woods, left for dead, she was crawling down Carlson's throat until he got that search out. More than anything he'd been touched when Jack called him to say goodbye and tell him to take care of his mom_, _and had wasted no time in getting to the airport.

Linden had just looked so..._sad. _So broken and helpless. Watching her there was nothing, however, to seeing her locked up in that place, where they kept her drugged out of her mind. Holder had been scared, really _scared _when he heard Sarah speak. Her eyes were glassy and her face was slack, so unlike the hard, domineering Linden he had come to enjoy. She asked, begged him to get her out, and he had. He'd saved her from that shit hole, with help (he felt a twinge of annoyance) from _Rick._

Dr. Rick rides in and saves the day, the bastard. Didn't even stick around to talk to Linden, make sure she was okay. _'She's your responsibly now.' _What a cold-hearted prick. Sarah had thanked Holder on the ride home, and he shrugged it off, wanting nothing more than to tell her all about what it took to get her out of there. He kept silent, of course. He could see in her face that she was disappointed and sullen, and he wanted to kick Sanoma's ass for it. Still, he couldn't say he was sad to see Rick gone again. As far as he was concerned that shrink didn't even know what he had with Sarah and Jack, what he left behind.

Holder tires to deny it, but he really can't. He feels jealous of Rick, that he gets to know what goes on in Linden's head when she barely tells _him_ anything. He's pissed that any man can know her that well if he can't. It's childish, but it's the way he feels. So what if Linden's flawed, the best people are, and maybe that's why he feels so comfortable around her. Maybe he doesn't feel his flaws as much when they're together.

"Alright I'd better hit the hay, I'm going in to see Carlson tomorrow." Sarah says, nonchalantly.

"Whaat? Back into the lions den." Holder pauses, chewing on a crust of pizza. "You sure you're ready for that?"

She stares at him pointedly. "I'm just sayin' Linden, theres no rush."

"Yeah, well I have to go in to tell him about my little trip anyway. We can talk work when I get home."

Holder nods a few times. "Whatever you say boss."

* * *

Stephen's sitting in their barren office, twisting his swivel chair restlessly as he waits. He's got the autopsy report of the victim, a Roger Fallon, in front of him at the desk. Official cause of death was the bullet to the head, obviously, but the coroner had also found no less than fifty tiny balloons in Fallon's stomach. It seems that at least two had already burst at the time of death and the vic was probably experiencing symptoms of an overdose when he was shot. Which might help to explain that sloppy kill and disposal of the body.

Alright, so Williams shoots Fallon somewhere, maybe in the car, when he sees Fallon's stopped breathing, maybe going into a fit. Why? Why make all that mess if he was about to die anyway? Williams must have been seriously pissed to lose his mule, cause he'd beat Fallon's head post-mortem before dumping him. Williams clearly needed to make that shipment, his desperation making him all the more dangerous. But why drive all the way out there and just throw the gun away with the body? It didn't make sense. The print had only been a partial, maybe Williams thought he'd wiped the gun clean before chucking it. The dumb-ass.

Holder puts out a lookout for a car matching Williams', who knows, he might get lucky and find his crime scene still intact. Mercer calls with the flight info just as Stephen's perusing Fallon's file, which was littered with petty theft and misdemeanors. Apparently Roger B. Fallon was scheduled to fly a small commercial flight from Seattle to Nevada City, but never boarded. Even more interesting was the fact that Fallon had made several identical trips over the past few months, always using the same cheap airline and returning only a few days later.

Stephen calls to put in a warrant for the airline's flight logs and inventory for those trips, and hangs up the phone just as Linden walks in through the open doorway. Her face betrayed no emotion.

"So?" He leans back lazily in his chair "How'd that go?"

"Fine." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pack of gum and quickly breaks out a piece.

This being a tell-tale sign that she was in fact _not _fine, he went on carefully. "How'd Carlson take the news about your little trip?"

"I think he was relieved, to be honest." She slumps into her chair with a sigh. "Probably glad to have me out of his hair for a few more days. It seems we really caused a stir."

"We?" Stephen asks. "Hate to burst your bubble Linden, but _you're_ the stirrer. I just work here."

She snorted. "Sure, whatever you say. Anyways, Carlson said I could take as much time as I need, so no worries there I guess." Sarah sits and ponders for a minute. "Want to go grab a bite?"

"Yeah, sure," He looks at his watch. "Has to be a quick one though, I'm waiting on a warrant to go through." They both stand from their chairs.

"Well look at you, you're starting to sound like a real detective." She says, her tone playful but honest.

Stephen shrugs it off. "What can I say?" He looks down at her as they walk down the bland halls, "I learned from the best."

He sees her face crack into a smile, her eyes crinkling. He's grinning inwardly.

* * *

Stephen drops her back at his house after lunch, Sarah planning to do some apartment surfing on his computer, just to get her foot in the door for when she comes home. He doesn't show it, but this news alate's him. Talking to Carlson, looking into apartments, it _does_ seem that Linden has every intention of returning to Seattle from Chicago. Stephen breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe there is hope for this partnership after all.

The day passes in a dull haze. The warrant goes through but the flight logs won't be shipped until tomorrow. Williams' passport expired last year and he never renewed it, so crossing the border's not an option. Still though, Tobias had not been apprehended and therefore Holder has been unable to question him. The coroner found skin particles under the victims fingernails, probably from a struggle before the shot. The DNA matched Williams, which put him at the scene of the crime holding the murder weapon. Slam dunk. Now all they needed was to arrest the fucker.

Lt. Carlson knocks on the office door at around six o'clock, right around the time Holder decided he was done for the day. He would go over the logs tomorrow, see how long Fallon's been body packing. The case was pretty much closed, as they knew the identity of the perp, but Stephen still had a creeping suspicion. Airlines just don't let creeps with bags lined with heroine onto their planes, no matter how cheap. Stephen was doing some half-assed research on his computer when he heard the knock and turned in his chair.

"Hey lieutenant, what can I do ya for?" He asks, closing the case file with a snap. Holder still felt a little cool towards Carlson for how he had busted their balls this whole case. And the way he had spoken of Linden, _that _he wouldn't forget.

"Just checking up on you, I wanted to see how that Sea-Tac case was progressing."

"Well, it's progressed." Holder smirks, "Williams is definitely our perp, DNA proves it." He _would_ go into the flights and drug muling, but he just didn't care enough. Carlson could read it in his report later.

"So you felt... Confidant, then, working this case alone?" The lieutenant asks, his tone betraying a darker undercurrent to this questioning.

"Ah, yeah I guess. Pretty cut and dry, not much skill needed to crack it."

"I see." Carlson pauses, lingering awkwardly in the doorway. "I only ask because I was curious if you would still be... Interested in having Linden as your partner, when she returns to the force?"

"Yeah, o' course," He says without a thought, "Why? Did she ask to be transferred?" His heart hurt at the thought that Linden wanted to be given a new partner. _What the he'll was she thinking? She couldn't find someone else who be able to put up with her like he could._

"No, she said she was fine to stay with you. I just wanted to check that you were alright with that also. Since the Larsen case is solved, I wanted to make sure you didn't feel _tied down _to her. I could always reassign you to someone more... stable."

"Don't." A flush of anger crept up his cheeks as he looked up at Carlson. After all Linden had done for this department and the case, he still distrusts and looks down on her. Still only sees the stigma of her time in that hospital. _Well fuck you too, old man. _"I'll stay with Linden, thanks. She ain't all bad." Holder says lightly, masking his annoyance in a nonchalant tone.

Carlson nods gravely. "Well, if you ever change your mind you know where my office is."

"I won't, but thanks anyway." Lt. Carlson turns and leaves Holder alone in the office once more. _Linden's got twice the balls that old dude's got, _Stephen thinks, _and knows how to use 'em too._

* * *

The rest of his day passes without much event. Holder gets home to find Linden making some Alphagetties with toast for dinner. He laughs, out of all the fine food he stocks this kitchen with she once again finds the most processed of it all. _Oh Sarah, when will you learn. _Holder doesn't mention anything about his conversation with Carlson, and nor does Linden give up anymore details on hers. He spots her duffle bag packed and ready on the couch. He tries hard to ignore it.

"So, any luck apartment hunting?" He asks as she dishes steaming and saucy noodles into his bowl. She throws the toast at him frisbee style and he barely catches them before dunking them into the bowl.

"Meh." She seems tired, "There were a few, only one that looks promising though. It's near Jack's school and in my price range. But it's a fixer-upper." Her voice sounds haggard at just the thought of putting any work in on a new place. _Holder to the rescue. _

"Well y'know, I'm pretty handy myself, when my ribs are busted that is." He goes on a bit more tentatively, staring intently at his noodles. "I could help you out."

Linden snorts with a face full of bread, "I'm going to hold you to that."

_Please do, _"Yeah, well, we can recruit Jack too. He looks like he's got some painter in there somewhere."

"Let's hope."

* * *

The morning arrives and Stephen rises sulkily from his bed. Wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt he walks into the kitchen to find Linden already up and dressed. She had a frenzied aura about her today, and he knows she's got the pre-trip jitters. The coffee was brewed and she had a full mug sitting out for him, the milk and sugar already added. He grabs it with a smile, taking a quick sip and sighing. _She knows how to make it just right._

She's sipping her own black coffee. They have a quick breakfast of toast and eggs over-easy (Holder's cooking, of course) and head out for the airport just past ten. Her flight is not until one, but they get there with plenty of time for customs and security. In a fit of gallantry Holder insists on carrying her heavy bag for her, though immediately regrets it when he feels the throbbing ache in his side. He suffers through it.

He stands with her as she waits in line to buy her ticket, his hands in his pockets and eyes downcast. When the time comes for her to pass threw the desks and walk to security Linden leads him to the side to say their goodbyes.

"Well, I guess this is it." Sarah says, almost awkwardly.

"Yep, looks like it."

They stand there in silence for a minute, Holder shuffling his feet restlessly.

"Thank you _so much _Holder, for everything. I... I literally couldn't have done it without you." She's staring at her boots, both hands holding the bag he'd passed off to her.

He is just so pleased with what she said that he didn't see her drop her bag. Linden flung her arms around his waist in a brief hug. Holder cringed at the pain it brought, though did nothing but put his arms around her and hold her closer. He manages to sputter "Ain't nothing but a thaang, Linden. You know you can always count on me." _You can, _he tells her in his head, _I promise you can._

She removes herself from his embrace and looks up at him, her eyes glistening. He can smell her sweet-and-savory scent coming off her clothes, and really hopes it clings to his own jacket. "I know I can. And I won't forget it."

With that she picks up her bag and walks to security, giving him a last parting glance and wave before giving her boarding pass and passport to the security guard. He watches her as she rounds the corner and disappears from sight. _This will be the longest we've been apart since we met, _he'd wanted to say. He had kept his mouth shut, to embarrassed to actually say it.

Holder stands there for another few minutes before at last turning to leave. When he gets into the car, before putting the keys in the ignition, he pulls out his phone a dials.

Davie answers. "Yo half-pint, what you doin'?"

xx


	4. Chapter 4

Jack and Greg are waiting for Sarah outside baggage claim. She walks quickly through the gates and drops her bags to take Jack in a big hug. He smiles sheepishly but hugs her back just as tight. Greg grabs her bags and they make awkward greetings, her arm still around her sons shoulders. Greg leads the way out of the airport, Sarah and Jack lagging behind to talk. Jack carries the conversation for most of the drive, with her actively asking him questions throughout. Greg pipes in now and then, but mostly it is Sarah just enjoying a wonderfully casual conversation with her son.

They have dinner after she gets a tour of the place. She feels a sad twinge to see how well Jack was already moved into his room. For the past month she hasn't been able to give him any kind of stability, something he has clearly craved. The thought haunts her that she almost let it happen again, let herself be lost in a case. She moves this to the back of her mind and enjoys the night with her son and his father. After dinner they sit and have a cup of coffee (Jack has pop) and Greg tells her a little about his work and what he's been up to, and Sarah tries really hard to be interested. After a while she just fakes it.

Greg takes a call and leaves them in the living room. They're both sitting cross-legged on either end of the couch just talking, Linden taking occasional sips of her coffee.

"You seem happy here." Sarah says after they share a laugh.

Jack immediately looks sheepish again. "Yeah, I guess." He mutters.

They sit in silence for a short time as Sarah thinks of all the things she should say. Only none of them can do justice for what she feels, so she goes with the simplest one. _I'm sorry. _Linden sits there and apologies for ever single wrong she has done him, and not just those of this month but for the ones of the past as well. It takes such a huge part of her to tell him this, to break down the tough facade she'd thought she'd built for herself. It was all worth it, however, when Jack moved across the couch and hugged her.

It was past eleven when Greg and Jack drove her to the hotel room she'd booked. Greg had said halfheartedly that she was welcome to stay, but on the whole she thought it better not to. The plan is that they will pick her up for breakfast and go see the sights, or maybe a movie. Sarah was excited about the day, even with Greg along. They say goodnight and she heads for her room which looks eerily similar to the ones she's been living in lately. Linden throws her bag on the floor, kicks off her boots and falls onto the bed.

She's tired, but not so tired as to fall asleep just yet. After having a quick shower to wash the plane smell out of her hair she jumps into her pajamas and curls up in bed with the remote. She clicks through the stations and stops on one, smiling. It was a Bruce Lee movie. _Isn't that the one Holder always talks about?_ Linden felt a sudden urge to call Holder, shocked that she actually missed him. This is the first time they've ever _really _been apart. Sure they'd only known each other for a month, but it had been quite the month, she couldn't help but grow attached to him. Sarah reaches for her phone on the bedside table, then stops. Then she grabs it and flips it open.

Holder's lying on his couch watching a Bruce Lee marathon on t.v. when his phone rings. It's nine-thirty and he was contemplating just going to bed from boredom. He'd had a pretty good day though, talked to Davie for a bit before he finally put Liz on the phone. They'd had a short chat in which they talked of nothing in particular. He asked her about work and Davie and she asked about his injuries and told him to take it easy. They parted with Holder asking if he might come over to see Davie sometime this weekend, to which Liz gave a hesitant yes.

He reaches lazily for his phone and reads _Linden _on the display, instantly sitting up a bit from where he lay. The amount of time he's spent tonight trying not to focus on his phone was embarrassing, every few minutes getting a fresh urge to call her. He'd been strong, however, and now it's paid off. "Yo Linden, survived the flight I see." He'd known she had, he had checked that it landed when he'd got home from work.

He hears her chuckle, "Barely."

"Crying baby?"

"Baseball movie."

He laughs, "Yeah, they'll get ya alright." Holder asks after Jack and Sarah tells him everything new she's learned about his friends and school. After talking about that for a while she asks him how his day went. He tells her about his conversation with Liz and she seems genuinely happy for him to be back in touch with his sister. She asks after the Fallon case and he tells her it's pretty much closed, but he also shares with her his suspicion of the airline. Holder bounces ideas and theories off her, pleased to hear her so interested in another case, even if this one was all but wrapped up.

They talk on the phone for no less than two hours, until Lindens voice grows weaker and quieter and at last he hears it fade out completely and she drifts off to sleep, still on the line. The sounds of her breathing are calm and rhythmic against the phone, and he imagines her passed out in some motel room, t.v. still on and blankets pulled up to her chin with the open phone propped against a pillow. He smiles as he tells a sleeping Linden, miles away and in another city, goodnight.

Three days pass. Stephen sees Davie on the Sunday, and the two of them with Liz walk to the park. Davie shows him how high he can swing on the swing set and Holder hoots his admiration. Liz stands to the side, her arms crossed but a smile breaking across her face. It's a simple thing, just hanging out with them again, but it was something that he'd been missing so badly. Holder tried to remember a happy day that they'd had like this before, but he couldn't. His hazy memory could only recall the broken promises and hurt he'd caused these past few years. Holder would not let this taint his fresh start with Liz, however, and sent it to the back of his mind as they walked home for dinner. Holder generously offered to cook.

Stephen had called Linden that Sunday night and again they'd talked for a long while. She said that she was coming back on the following Tuesday, and admits that she really does not like Chicago. Holder sniggers.

"And Jack?" Holder asks, "When's he comin' home?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for so long Holder began to think she'd hung up.

"He's, um, I think he's actually going to be staying until the end of term. Gregseems to think that's what's best for right now, and I can't help but agree with him." She sounds dejected and he could tell she had gone over and over this in her mind.

"Well what does Jack say 'bout all this?"

She swallows. "He wants to stay a little while longer. I...I think he really missed his dad." He heard hurt in her voice, though she tried to mask it. "Jack seems so settled here already, I just don't want to wreck his life again."

"You never _wrecked _his life Linden, you just wrinkled it a bit is all. And if little man feels he needs to do the whole _Chicago_ scene for a while longer, so be it. We'll just have to find him a kill-ass place to come home to, and I guarantee he'll settle right in again."

She sighs deeply. "Yeah, I guess."

"He's a good kid, Sarah. You know he'll do fine no matter what."

On Monday Linden calls to ask, (not that it was really a question) if he could pick her up from the airport tomorrow afternoon. Holder makes a crack that he's actually already booked to chauffeur some kids to a dance. She doesn't seem amused so he clicks his tongue and says he'll be there. _Of course he'll be there. _She gives him the times of her flight and he writes them hurriedly down on a note pad.

Holder gets to the airport a good hour before Sarah's flight's meant to land, and so he takes a seat in arrivals and waits. He wishes he'd brought a crossword puzzle or something, not that he enjoys doing them, it would've just been something to pass the time. He buys a coffee from the Starbucks kiosk and wanders over to the little gift shop where he buys himself a Sudoku booklet. He spends maybe ten minutes on it before his mind becomes too jumbled and he throws it to the seat beside him. _Just get here already Linden, your chauffeur is officially bored._

At last he sees her round the corner into the Arrivals area, her duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Sarah looks tired, her loose bangs falling out of her ponytail, but Holder noticed she had a certain _glow _about her that she had lacked when last he saw her. She just looked _happy. _This made him smile.

He walks up to her and they make their greetings, and there is an awkward moment when both wonder if they should hug or not. They decide against it, Holder instead reaching out to take the duffle bag from her, slinging it over his own shoulder with a suppressed groan. Sarah smirks up at him.

"So, where to boss?" He asks as they walk out of the airport.

Sarah sighs, clearly exhausted, "Well, I'm starving, so any place with food is fine by me." She grabs the half drunk coffee out of his hand and takes a huge gulp, then cringes. "God, did you go and pour _all _the sugar packets into this thing?"

"No," He smirks, "I left a few."

Linden takes another sip, not bothering to pass it back before she throws it in a near bin. Holder doesn't mind, he was done with it anyway.

They get to the car and Linden jumps in as he puts her bag in the trunk. Holder opens his door and steps in as well. "So tell me about your trip." He says.

"Less talk, more food. Then sleep, lots of sleep." Her head is leaned back against the seat, her eyes closed.

Holder laughs. "Glad to have you home."

They pick up some McDonalds through the drive-thru and park in the lot behind the restaurant to eat. Holder just got a muffin and another coffee, Linden on the other hand is enjoying a bigmac meal with all the fixins', chicken mcnuggets and a coke. Holder watches her eat, his eyebrows raised.

"Damn woman, they not have food in Chicago or what?" He says, chewing on his muffin.

She doesn't even answer, just sighs through her nose as she chews. Sarah finishes and Holder runs out of the car, his hood up against the rain, to throw the bag of garbage into the bin in the parking lot. They drive to his place in sleepy silence, neither needing to say where they're going. Holder throws her the keys as he rounds the trunk to get her bag. She unlocks the door but stands under the stoop, waiting to hold it open for him.

Sluggishly, they make their way up the stairs, Linden unlocking the door and walking through it like a zombie. Pausing only to take off her shoes and coat she heads to his bedroom and falls onto his bed with an exhausted grunt. She then lies completely still, as though she had already passed out. Holder snickers and leaves her to it, throwing her bag on the couch. He'd called the station earlier to check if Williams had been apprehended yet, but no dice.

Holder decided that the department could go one day without his lively antics, so he tells them he's taking the day off. He wasn't working any active cases, this one being all but over, so no one really objected. Sure, he _should've _called Carlson, but then that would have meant he'd actually have to _talk _to the guy, and Holder didn't think he had the patience for that today.

Holder falls onto the couch and is about to reach for the remote when he spots that paperback book Linden had bought a few days ago. With a sheepish smile he grabs it and opens it to the first page. There must be something good about these kind of books, otherwise women worldwide wouldn't all read them. He tells himself it's just a joke, him reading this thing, but by chapter three he couldn't put it down.

"What're you doing?"

The voice startles Holder, who quickly drops the book in surprise. "What? Nothing, I'm not doing anything."

"Are you reading _The Ivory Rose_?" Linden asks, her ponytail loosened by sleep and a sly smile playing at her lips.

"Absolutely not. Just glancing at it." He throws the book aside haplessly, mentally making a note that he was on page 187. She looks at him as if she knows this, but let's the subject go.

"So I called the realtor guy, y'know the one who has that listing for the apartment near Jack's school? He says I can drop by tomorrow to take a look," She pauses, walking into the small kitchen and pours herself a mug of coffee from the pot, not bothering to make a new batch. "Wanna come?"

He sits up on the couch, "Yeah, sure," He says without a thought, "Gotta put my stamp of approval on it, don't I?"

"Pfft, sure you do. That is, of course, if you can fit it into your busy schedule of reading romance novels?" Linden smirks at him from over her mug as she leans on the counter.

Holder smiles, his cover blown. "I'm sure I can pencil you in."

The apartment looks like it would work. Two bedrooms, one and a half bath, updated kitchen, the works. Holder struts around the place as Linden talks to the realtor, and stops to stare out the windows in the living room, or the "open concept living/dining area" as the realtor had called it. He puts his hands deep in his pockets and stares out over the street and buildings. It wasn't raining, for once, but the city was still damp and grey, but he didn't mind.

His phone buzzes and he looks to see he has a text from Jack. When they'd first got to the apartment Holder had taken it upon himself to photograph each room and send it to Jack for approval, which he receives: _Nice, tell mom I like it_

Holder texts back:_ Shotty top bunk_

They finish up at the apartment with Linden making plans to go to the realtor guy's office tomorrow to sign the lease. Sarah puts on a stoic face but Holder can tell she's stressed, and when they step into the car he doesn't put the keys in the ignition right away. He knows her well enough to realize this is one of those moments she has that just need to be still and silent, so that she can process. They sit like this for a few minutes, with him glancing over at her occasionally to try and gauge her mood.

Linden sighs. "I think I like it." She says.

His lips twitch upward. "That's good."

"Yeah." Again they fall into silence "And Jack likes it?"

"Said so himself." He pauses, debating whether or not it was his place to continue. He decides it is. "Look, you're getting your shit together, Linden, and that's all Jack wants. He doesn't need iPods 'n crap like that, he just needs a mom who can be there. Trust me." The thought of his own mother creeps into his mind, absent and drunk when he did see her. _Liz was more of a mother than that woman ever was. _Holder sighs and puts this from his mind. "Besides, from the sounds of it _Greg _don't got his act together neither."

She turns sharply to face him in her seat, "What do you mean?"

"Well..." He shifts sheepishly, his hands drumming the steering wheel, "Jack's just mentioned that Greg works a lot, is all. Said they don't really hangout much."

Linden furrows her brow and frowns, thinking. "He said that? He never told me that."

He shrugs. "Well Linden, what can I say, maybe I'm just easy for the young folks to talk to."

"Yeah, maybe." She goes silent again, and Holder can practically hear the gears in her head turning.

He ventures on, "Alls I'm saying is, you don't got nothing to worry about with Greg being Jack's _favorite, _or whatever. He ain't got nothing on you. You're golden, Linden."

Sarah sighs and sniffs. She looks back over at him, her lips pursed "You really think so?" Her tone sounded meekly hopeful, and it touched him that she could put so much stock in his words. No one ever took what he said seriously. Maybe that's why he likes her so much, cause Sarah can actually treat him like a competent adult, not the babbling junkie most people see him as.

Holder nods ardently. "You're golden."

Xx

A/N Thank you all so much for your patience everyone, I know it took me WAY too long to crank this guy out! And no one need worry, I will not stop posting, I promise, and I will try and update as often as possible. And feel free to spread this story, I _would_ post it on Tumblr but I have no idea how it works. The more Linden x Holder shippers the better! You're also probably wondering when the new mystery will be introduced, and I can assure you that it is in the works, just had to lay the groundwork for the Holder and Linden relationship to bud. Alright, I'd better stop before I say too much! Enjoy, spread, and review!


	5. Chapter 5

Holder hisses and winces, putting a hand to his left side. Sarah looks up from the box in which she's digging to see Holder's eyes closed and teeth gritted with pain. She rolls her eyes.

"Seriously Holder, leave it. I'll get it later." Sarah says, referring to the box he had been carrying, labeled _'Heavy Books. Holder, don't lift.' _

He places the box on a near counter and then tentatively stretches his back, scowling. "Nah Linden, I got it. Just forgot to limber up."

Sarah scoffs and moves to break down the empty box, it's former contents now stored in the kitchens drawers and cupboards. This is the first day of moving in, the movers having brought in the heavy furniture earlier this morning. Holder had taken command of showing them where to place everything, going on about _feng shui _or some hippy nonsense like that. She'd let him do his thing though, more glad than anything that she didn't have to do it. After the movers had left Holder seemed satisfied that the positions of the sofas promoted _'balance and tranquility,' _or that's what she thinks he said. Sarah can't remember, she wasn't really listening when he said it.

It's been over a week since Sarah had signed the lease papers on the apartment, and she was happy to finally be able to move in. Most of her things she had either sold or sent away when she'd thought she'd be moving to Sonoma. Luckily though, Linden had chosen to keep the main things in storage without telling Rick, just in case. _Always have a safety net. _The movers had brought over two sofas, an armchair, a small dining table and a spattering of bedroom furniture. After they left Holder and herself had spent a solid hour trying to reassemble her bed frame before at last they managed it, then both looked gloomily at the heavy mattress and box spring across the room. They paused, but both were just too tired and walked out of the room, saving that task for a later time.

And they are now unpacking the many boxes they'd brought up from the packed car, both having found themselves out of breath while carrying them up the stairs. Sure, the apartment was only on the second floor, but both were plagued by the tired lungs of a smoker. Finally they'd brought the last load into the apartment and both fall onto the couch, side by side, exhausted. Holder made a jab about Linden owing him one. She'd snorted. Holder had insisted from the beginning on being her _moving buddy _as he had called it, wouldn't shut up about it until she'd promised to let him have the run of the place. _"You gotta have balance in your life, Linden. Cause that's the only time you can _really _be healthy." _That's it. That's what he'd said.

Sarah now watches as Holder twists and stretches, his thin face still pained. It has been nearly two weeks since his beating at the casino, and at last it seemed his ribs were starting to heal. At least, she hadn't noticed him grimacing with pain at every movement, and she had watched him quite carefully. Sarah had found herself thinking about Holder when he wasn't there, wondering what he was doing at work and when he would be home. She'd been going crazy with boredom, you can only go for so many runs, which is why she is so relieved to have her own place again, at least it might give her something to do until her leave of absence was over at work. She was already getting that _itch _for another case, but this time she would keep her cool. She would just work it like any other case.

If Sarah is honest with herself, though, she must admit that she will miss living with Holder, _really _miss it. Yes, he talked too much and couldn't sit for long in silence without fidgeting, but his presence soothed her. When the Larsen case was still open she hadn't been able to notice it through her suspicion and anxiety, but now that her mind was clearer she allows herself to feel it. _She liked him._ Only like a brother, she told herself, or a partner. Nothing more than that, she thinks to herself over and over. She tried to ignore the sidelong glances he would throw her when he thought she wouldn't see, tried to believe that he felt nothing towards her but friendship. That would make things so much easier. Linden couldn't lie to herself for long, however, and knew deep down that whatever she might be feeling for Holder was not brotherly, far from it. She hid this from both of them well, though, or at least she hoped she did.

Sarah shakes her head to rid these thoughts from them, and glances back to Holder where he stands stretching at the end of the kitchen counter. She clicks her tongue. "Limber as you may be, you should really take it easy. Just leave the heavy stuff to me, okay?"

"Fine," He shrugs nonchalantly, "What's left to do?"

"Uh..." She thought, "Could you take those case boxes over there," She motioned to a small pile of dark boxes in the corner, "And put them in the closet in the bedroom, they shouldn't be too heavy."

Holder tuts his tongue and she smirks back at him. He'd made her smile more times in the past week and a half than she could remember in months, even before the case. Rick and her's relationship had not been unpleasant in any way, and she _had_ come to rely on him, but it had more often been somber or strained. Perhaps it had been because of how they'd met, him being the first and only man she had ever really opened up to, the only one she had ever told about her mother or her time in juvie. When she had run into him a year or so after they'd ceased their weekly sessions, having begun seeing him during her time in the psych ward, talking with him had been easy. Rick was the first man after Greg left that Linden had allowed into her heart, but she was wondering now if that did not have more to do with simplicity rather than _true _love. He already knew her deep and dark secrets, no need to rehash them again. Rick was stable and dependable, and life became easier when he was around. And for a long time that was all she needed.

But he never _understood _her, and especially not her work. Sarah could never tell Rick how she would put herself into the mind of the victim, or envision their last moments over and over in her head. And _that's _what gets her. With Adrian and Rosie she had fallen too far, she had felt too much for them. Their agony couldn't be observed with an objective third party perspective, not by her. They had suffered alone in the dark, waiting and praying for help to come. Though neither were really saved, the lives that both had known ended in blackness and pain. That drowning shadow that had nearly swallowed Sarah when she was so young, abandoned by the only person in her life. Or maybe the blackness did swallow her. She never did decide which.

Rick and her had been happy together, though. Their temperaments matched, and both were comfortable to work in silence. And that was the way of their relationship; happy pleasantries and small-talk questions after the others day. Then both would fall to their work for the night. That was one thing that Rick and Sarah had always shared in common even before they met, a devotion to their careers. Jack had never really warmed to Rick, either, though she tried hard to ignore this. _It was better for the both of them, _she would tell herself, _Jack needs parents that can be dependable. I can't do it by myself._

Only now that Rick and her were completely over could she look back on the whole of their time together with fresh eyes. She still loved him of course, and seeing him at the hospital only to come out and find him gone had stung her greatly. Sarah had thought about him much during the time of the Larsen case, though admittedly not as much as she should have. She had nearly forgotten the day they were supposed to be married, and only when that _doctor _woman said anything was she reminded of it. It had become harder to keep track of the date as she fell further into the pit that was this case. It threw trials at her that were hard and unexpected, one of which being adjusting to a new and inexperienced partner. His first murder investigation and he had held up quite well, in her professional option.

Sarah watches Holder lift two of the boxes, one on top of the other, and carry them into her bedroom, his face stiff with pain. "Or you could just sit and hangout, don't want to crack any more ribs." She says as he disappears around the corner of the doorway to her bedroom, situated across the living room from where she stands in the kitchen. She hears his snort. Linden grabs another box from near the front door and begins unpacking it on the counter. Moments pass as she lifts the pots and pans and utensils that's had been thrown haphazardly into it over a month ago.

She finishes emptying the box and breaks it down as well, putting it on the pile with the others. Only then does she notice how long Holder has been in the other room. Instantly suspicious she strides across the open living room and through the doorway into her new bedroom. Sarah stops at the door as she sees Holder, standing in the middle of the room with a manila folder resting open in his hands, his long neck bowed to read the pages it held. At his feet lay a box on it's side, the lid fallen off and the contents spilled across the carpeted floor. She catches sight of a paper that makes her gasp. It's picture was so familiar to her that when she closed her eyes she could still recall every detail perfectly.

Twelve dead trees are lined in a row before a riverbank, with the outline of mountains off in the distance. Their branches are bare and spindly, like broken spider legs. She has stared at that image for so many hours in her life that it's contents have lost any meaning. Sarah no longer sees trees and mountains and a river when she looks at it. Now she sees darkness, death, and rotting corpses. She sees a little boy curled in the corner of a closet, clothes soiled with filth and dried blood, his eyes red and glassy. The memory of his decomposing mother on the couch did not chill Linden as much as seeing that poor child, cornered and clawing at his face like an animal. Sarah could practically smell that horrible odor here, in her new apartment, that sweet stench of rotting meat. She swallows the bile that rises up her throat.

"What the _hell _are you doing?" She bursts, enraged at his invasion of her privacy. How is this even possible? She had deliberately left that case box in her storage compartment for safe keeping, away from prying eyes. Someone already knew she had it, and they broke into her motel room just to remind her of that. Holder must have grabbed the box with all the others when they were loading up the car, obviously not knowing what was in it. Still, her temper flared at the way his eyes were pouring over her notes and files now. She never allowed herself to look through it, even after she had gotten out of the hospital and Adrian's father was officially charged. Sarah was afraid of what she would find there, perhaps fall again through that door into madness.

Holder starts and glances over at her before closing the file, his shoulders suddenly hunched guiltily. He awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot, stepping away from the open box on the floor. "Oh, ah, sorry Linden. I dropped one of the boxes and saw...these," He gestures down toward the papers, "Couldn't help myself." Holder drops the file on top of the others. He sinks one of his hands deep in his sweater pocket, the other rising to skim over his scalp.

Sarah stares at him incredulously, her eyes narrowed with anger. "You _couldn't help yourself_? Holder, what the fuck?" She strides over to where he stands awkwardly and bends to quickly stuff the papers back into the box before lifting it upright. She catches a last sight of the drawing before ramming the flimsy cardboard lid back on top. "This is _my _stuff Holder, you had no right reading it. It's none of your goddamn business!"

He took a few more steps back, away from her as if afraid she would lash out. Holder kept his eyes trained on the floor, a frown on his face like he were a child just scolded by his mother.

She threw the case box into the empty closet, then turned to grab the other box to put on top. Holder watched her do this, unsure of what to do. Sarah surprised herself that she had not already kicked him out, as she had done times before from the car. Even though she was angry with him, _really pissed _actually, she still couldn't find the urge to scream at him to go. She stood and watched him, her breathing becoming more even.

"Yo Linden, I dunno what I was thinkin'. I just saw the files and thought... I dunno. It was shitty, won't happen again." He mumbles, shrugging, his head still hung low.

"I don't want to hear it, Holder." The words are on the tip of her tongue, _'get the he'll out!' _but again she doesn't say them. Instead she huffs and storms out of the room and across the apartment into the kitchen again. Sarah stands there, hands laid flat against the counter, still seething. She stays like this for several minutes, trying to regain her composure. Linden wasn't even that mad, sure she was pissed, but Holder would have found out about Adrian sooner or later. Now he's just gone and done it on his own terms. No, it had more been the straw that broke the camel's back.

She had felt a whirlwind of emotions today already, and suddenly realized just how exhausted it had made her. Sarah had tried to deny it, but she felt very sad to be moving into this new place without Jack by her side. Not to mention the anxiety that still clung to her in the wake of Rosie Larsen's murder investigation, like the after shocks of a great earthquake. Her leave of absence from the department had been nice, but that _itch _for a new case was back with a vengeance, and this confused her. The last case had seen an end to her relationship with Rick, suspension from the force, another stint in the psychiatric ward, and worst of all loosing the confidence of her son that she could take care of them. Yet still, through all of these terrible things, she felt the want for that fresh case, the drive, the _thrill _of a new hunt. What the hell is wrong with me? She thought.

Holder steps tentatively out of the bedroom, and when she doesn't scream at him he raises his eyebrows and goes to take a seat on the couch. He plays with the drawstring of his hoodie absently, obviously waiting for her to speak. Holder keeps throwing her sidelong glancing as if testing the waters of her mood, seeing if it was safe to say anything yet. There was a small pout to his lips which almost made her smile. He reminds her a lot of Jack right now, especially when he had been a kid and didn't get his way, he would make that same face. _Boys, _she thought. Sarah realized then that the only good thing that'd come out of this whole ordeal had been Holder. Talks-too-much, privacy invading, joke cracking Holder. Her BFF.

"It's not fair that you did that." She said after a huge sigh, "I would've told you, if I'd wanted you to know." Anger still bubbled under the surface, but it was more muted now, though certainly not gone.

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, isn't it? You'll _never _tell me these things, you never tell me anything. Just cause I'm not your _shrink_ doesn't mean you can't talk to me about this shit! I mean Jesus Christ Linden, we're supposed to be partners."

She scowled at him, unsure whether he had been referencing Rick or not. Holder hadn't liked finding out about her and Rick's introduction the way he did, that much Sarah could tell. She could also tell that every time she'd mentioned Rick's name this week he would stiffen slightly, and only for a second, as if each time he was surprised to hear of Rick's existence.

Linden wasn't sure what to say to that, luckily she was saved the trouble as Holder's phone began to sing from his pocket. He reached in and glanced at the screen before his eyes darted back to her's, as if asking for permission to answer.

She huffs and shrugs.

Holder flips open the phone. Who ever is on the other line makes their greetings, then seems to dive right into the purpose for the call. Holder's brows becomes continuously more furrowed until he wears a look of unhappy disgust. He nods and _'mhmm'_s several times before he says with a snort, "Yeah, well good luck with that. Warn you though, now might not be the best time." He closes the phone with a snap.

Sarah waits impatiently for an explanation. When he fails to give one she's asks, "Well? Who was that then?"

Holder licks his lips and turns the phone over in his large hands. "That was Carlson." He doesn't elaborate.

"And?" Her stomach seems to drop and jump at the same time. "What did he say?"

Holder sighs and rubs a hand over his face, suddenly weary. "There was a homicide, downtown." He says through his fingers, "Home invasion, mother dead on the scene, son's still missing. Apparently all the other guys are workin' active cases right now, so he says its ours if we want it."

"Ours?" She asks hesitantly. Suddenly her own phone starts buzzing from her jeans pocket and she reaches in to see the brightly lit display screen read _Lt. Carlson._

"Oh, yeah," Holder adds, "He said he'd give you a call."

Xx

A/N Well here it is, the introduction to the new case! And don't worry, I don't intend to drag it out for two seasons :P. You know the drill, enjoy, review and spread the Linden x Holder love! And write your own fan fictions for this pair, cause I need something to read too!


	6. Chapter 6

They pulled up on the curb down the road from a small grey one-story house, it's drive and street blocked off by cruisers flashing their blue and red lights. Sarah spots a couple of uniforms just now taping off the property, a group of neighbors and walkers-by beginning to cluster at the outer edges. Immediately she notices the influx of uniforms coming in and out of the open front door, and stomping across any possible evidence that may have been left. Sarah sighs, her nerves already frayed from her argument with Holder. Still, she was anxious to see the scene.

Her conversation with Carlson had gone as well as it could have, he'd made awkward greetings and inquired after how she was feeling. Sarah gave curt answers, already knowing the purpose of the call. He had wasted no more time with chit chat and began a brief summary of what they knew so far. Claire Burnett, 29, stabbed multiple times in her bedroom and found today by a neighbor. Her son, Jeremy, 9, was missing from the scene and his whereabouts are as of yet unknown. No signs of forced entry. Carlson then asked if she was sure she could handle another case. She said that yes, she was sure, and then she hung up.

Holder looks over at her as she stares out the window of the car, and she sees him do it. They hadn't spoken much after she'd got off the phone with Carlson. He had tried to say something, maybe apologize again, but she'd told him to shut up and get the keys. Now here they were, about to embark on another case, and Sarah couldn't help but see that he looks weary of her. Sarah was still too pissed at him to care, though. _Let him sweat it out. _She thinks. _Maybe he'll learn to mind his own business._

Holder clears his throat, his fingers drumming the wheel. "Hey, Linden, if your not ready-" She throws him a glare and he quickly rethinks his words, "I mean, if you wanna finish up your leave of absence, it's okay by me, I got this." He nods toward the house. "No pressure."

Sarah reaches into her coat pocket and brings out a pack of gum, breaks open a piece and throws it in her mouth. Her expression is sour. She chews for a few minutes then sighs again. _Back into the lions den. _Without a word she opens the door and steps out into the rain, pulling her hood up with one hand, and leaves Holder sitting awkwardly in the car.

She hears him open his own door and get out, though she doesn't wait before starting down the sidewalk and up the drive, flashing her newly returned badge to the officers so they would hold the tape up enough for her to pass under. She glances back as Holder lifts the badge hung on a chain from around his neck and shows it to the officers, and they hold the tape higher to accommodate his tall frame as he ducks under it. He catches up to her as she reaches the front steps and they walk up them together, Holder waiting by the open doorway to let her through first.

Inside is a small entry with an open arch that leads directly into the living room, whose window looks over the front yard. No less then half a dozen uniforms were clustered in this room, each chatting with their notepads out. The kitchen could be seen at the end of the short hallway that lead off the entry, the hall continuing on to, she assumed, the bedrooms.

"Get the notes from those guys, then get rid of them." She tells Holder, who stands at her side, "I don't want anyone here who doesn't absolutely need to be."

He nods and walks over to the cluster of men and asks to see what they got so far. Sarah watches him for a second as he takes one of the note pads and starts flipping through it. She should have told him more about that case, she knows it. If the roles were reversed he would have told her, no question. He keeps so little from her, sure she'd had to find out about his N/A meetings on her own, but she knows he would have told her eventually. A faint feeling of guilt begins to harden in her stomach, but she shoos it away. _He had no right going through my stuff like that, even if the box did just _fall _open. _Still though, she could feel her anger for him ebbing away, and that annoyed her.

How dare he worm his way into her heart, and without her even realizing no less! She had felt nothing short of terror when she'd gotten the call of his beating, and the hours that followed had been excruciating. Searching for him through those woods, she couldn't help but imagine that she'd find his lifeless body, broken and frozen, never to make a wise crack again. Seeing him lying at the trunk of that tree, unconscious, covered in dirt and blood, Sarah couldn't remember being more scared in her life. Never before had she felt such an all encompassing _guilt. _It had been her fault, _completely _her fault. _She _had kicked him out of their car, _she _had been the one to piss off the chief that day, _she'd _told him to look into the construction site. And he had forgiven her for all of it, no problem. _You're still my BFF._

Sarah couldn't place when she had started seeing Holder differently, as more than a colleague, maybe when they had solved the Larsen case and she had no place to had taken her in with no questions, never rushed her, even seemed happy to have her around. She knew he was lonely, that much was clear, and it made her feel good to be the one to break his solitude. Other than their occasional spat of bickering they got on just fine together. She was used to his nonstop banter by now, knew it made him more comfortable, and he seems perfectly able to put up with her moods and short temper. Sure he didn't always say the right thing at the right time, almost never actually, but he had his moments. Plus, Jack adored him.

With a deep intake of breath she leaves Holder in the living room and walks down the hall, turning before she entered the kitchen. This hall was long and narrow with only three doors, two closed and one open, two officers standing outside the open one. One of the closed doors she guessed was the bathroom, the other was clearly the boy's bedroom since it had a brightly colored letter J on it, and looked as though the boy had painted it himself. Planning to look through it after she had seen the crime scene in the other room, Sarah walks the last few steps before she reaches the master bedroom, the two uniforms part to let her through.

She'd seen enough death and gore in her career to build up a certain indifference to it, though still, when she rounded that corner she feels her breath catch in her throat. She swallows hard. The queen sized bed was against the far wall, and lying diagonally across it was the body of a woman, at least what remained of it. Wide arching blood spatters cover two of the four walls that made up the room, the one behind the bed and the wall adjacent to it, the crimson specs already dried unnaturally dark. Objects were scattered across the floor, as if someone had cleared them off the dresser and desk in a rage. There was a bloody handprint on the doorframe of the room's bathroom, thin streaks dripping eerily down the frame from the palm and finger of the print.

The bed was so covered in blood Linden could not even distinguish the color of the sheets. It were as if someone had splashed buckets and buckets of it across the woman while she lay sleeping, like that scene from Carrie. The woman, Claire Burnett, was wearing what looked like a silk night slip, though Sarah couldn't be sure through all the blood. She could tell, even from her place across the room, that the woman had suffered terribly.

Sarah looks over at the officer to her right and asks him for a pair of gloves. She sees that both of these guys are wearing blue slips over their shoes, like the scrubs at a hospital. At least they got one thing right. She asks for a pair of those, too, and fits them over her boots and the hem of her jeans before putting on her rubber gloves. She steps into the room, carefully making note of where she places her feet so that she can use the same path when she leaves. There was a guy from forensics in the corner of the room, a large camera with an industrial flash mounted atop it in his hand. He wore the navy blue coveralls that she knew had _forensics _printed on the back, and over his feet he too wore the blue slips. She had seen no lab van outside and assumed the rest of his team had not arrived yet.

The man looks up from his lens and nods in greeting, "Hello, Detective Linden, glad to have you back." He raises the camera back in front of his face and takes another picture, the flash glancing off the walls to assault her eyes. She blinks and asks "Where's your team, shouldn't they be here by now?"

She sees him scoff, thinking himself hidden behind the camera, but he answers, "Got held up. There was a shooting on the Monorail this morning, they should be heading here soon though." Again a flash fills the room. God, it made her eyes sore.

She nods, her face sour, and looks back at the woman on the bed. Walking to the edge of the right side she was able to take in Burnett's injuries in more detail. Cause of death was obvious, there was a gaping slit across her throat, ear to ear, which would account for the copious crimson pools that surround her head and shoulders. Her hands were slashed badly, defensive cuts no doubt. It seems as though she had lost fingers, though her arms were bent awkwardly at her side and over her chest that it was hard to tell, there was just so much blood. Her legs and feet are bare, apart from the red splatter, but Linden could see no visible signs of sexual assault or abuse.

She wordlessly motioned for the lab guy to come beside her, and she reaches out and lifts one of the woman's hands higher off the body to photograph. She had indeed lost her pinkie finger just below the first joint, her ring finger broken and only held on by a thread of skin. The body was already beginning to smell, and she wasn't surprised. By the bruised color of the skin and the dried blood Sarah guessed that time of death was no earlier than nine hours ago, at least. Brennet's hair was plastered to her scalp and forehead, her long locks matted with her own congealing blood. Her face was bruised under the blood, clearly beaten before death. This crime had been driven by rage and hate, obviously.

Just as Carlson had mentioned, the woman had several stab wounds to her chest and stomach. By the amount of blood here it must have occurred before death, or directly after. Linden hoped for the latter. She could see the wounds were deep and clean, murder weapon was probably some kind of cooking knife. Sarah bet that if she were to walk into the kitchen she would find one missing from the wooden knife block. Sarah leans closer and sees that the skin on the outer edges of the slits are torn and jagged, clearly the stabbing had happened quickly and hurriedly. Not quick enough, though, for Claire had at least managed to put her hands up in an attempt to defend herself.

Sarah and the lab guy, who's name was Jeb as she read off his name tag, continue taking pictures, her eyes still adjusting to the harsh and abrupt flash. He'd already photographed the rest of the room and bathroom before she and Holder had arrived, though had waited for a detective to get close to the body. Sarah now tells him where and what to take the pictures of, and he obeys without a word. She was just telling Jeb to take some more pictures of the wound at the woman's throat when she felt rather than heard Holder walk up to the doorway.

Sarah looks up from Jeb where he squats beside the bed, lower to the ground for a better angle. She sees Holder's face fall, his eyes growing wide and glassy. _Has he ever seen a scene like this before?_ She asks herself, _No, maybe not. I mean he did _just _transfer over from Narc._

He composes his face and slips on his own pair of rubber gloves, his feet already encased in those blue slippers. Holder walks purposefully into the room to come stand next to Linden, and they both turn to watch Jeb at work.

"So, what we go here?" He asks, clearly trying to make his voice sound level.

She tells him the information she's gleaned in the last fifteen minutes. He calls for an officer to come in to make notes of this, and so she retells all these things to him as he quickly jots them down. Holder circles the bed and comes to stand at the opposite side of Sarah, his eyes narrowed with intent observation. He takes in every detail of the broken body, even though Linden had told them all to him already. He ducks into the bathroom for a minute, then comes out again, shaking his head, "Nothing, no blood at least. Where the hell are those lab guys already?"

Sarah turns to face Jeb, who tells Holder about the Monorail shooting. Holder nods, still clearly unhappy. She asks Holder "You get rid of those other guys?"

"Yep, told 'em it was a closed crime scene now, only Forensics and Detectives allowed from here on in." He reaches into his hoodie pocket and takes out one of the officer's note pads. With a flick of his wrist he flips it open and takes a deep breath in, sighing it out as he spoke, "Neighbor got a call from a work friend of Burnett's, saying she never showed today. He says he called a few times, no answer, then came over and got in with the spare key. Says he found her like this," He gestures to the gore on the bed, "and didn't touch anything, just called us straight away."

She looks up at him, her expression pensive. Holder continues, "He's in the kitchen giving his statement right now, if you wanna talk to him."

Sarah shakes her head once, "We'll interview him later, once we've processed the scene."

Holder nods. She asks him "Any news on the boy yet?"

"Nah, put out an Amber Alert for him though. We're looking for Burnett's phone or address book now, maybe find a relative we can contact. Hoping we'll get lucky and the kid'll just be with them." He shrugs.

She nods in agreement, hoping for that as well. But she didn't think it likely.

Holder turns to talk to Jeb, still at the side of the bed, though now taking detailed shots of the blood spatter across the walls. "Yo, give your guys a call, I want 'em here ASAP. Before all the evidence gets trampled. And the Coroner too, I'll need a full autopsy report by this time tomorrow. And you," Holder turns to the uniform, still waiting to jot down anymore notes, and hands him his own notepad, "Make copies of all the officer's notes, and statements from the witness. On my desk as soon as you're done."

Sarah raises her eyebrows slightly. If he were feeling any trepidation with this scene he's clearly gotten over it, even taking charge of the situation. She tries not to feel impressed. _He's just doing his job. _Still, she feels proud. Sarah won't tell him this, of course, at least not while she's still mad at him.

She turns from the bloody sight on the bed and heads out of the bedroom, turning left and taking the few steps to the door with the J painted on it. Holder follows wordlessly behind her, leaving Jeb to make the call and take the last of the photographs before Forensics gets here. She opens the door with the tips of her fingers, trying not to smudge any prints that might have been left on the knob. The door swings open and she catches sight of the small bedroom behind.

The walls are painted a dark blue, and in the middle of the far wall is a window that looks out over the front yard. The window was open. Sarah looks down the hall and calls to one of the officers, "Has anyone been in this room at all since you arrived?"

The officer, a young man, shakes his head, "No. I think Johansen looked in there when we first got here, to make sure the kid wasn't hiding somewhere. But no, no one's gone in."

Sarah purses her lips as she walks into the room, again careful where she places her feet. Holder follows behind her, walking in her same path. Behind him is the officer charged with taking notes, his black notepad and pen poised. Sarah looks around the room for anything out of the ordinary, and Holder does the same, each taking to one half of the room. Though they hadn't been working together for that long, just over a month now, they had fallen into their own rhythm, she'd noticed this during the Larsen case. It were as if one could read the other so well that there was no need to discuss who did what, they would just fall into their own duties. She tries to remember if it had been like that with her past partners, and knew dimly that it hadn't.

Sarah takes the side with the bed. She sees that it is not made, the blankets thrown to one side, not out of the ordinary for a nine year old boy.

"Yo Linden," She turns to see Holder crouching by the door, and spots a chair on it's side right beside it. He points to a small dark mark on the door, just below the knob, hardly even noticeable. "Looks like the chair was pushed against the door, don't it?"

She nods, coming to stand next to him, bending to get a better look. She tentatively reaches out to touch the striker plate on the inside of the door frame, and feels that it is a bit loose. Circling around to the front side of the door she notices the smallest dent, too faint to see if you weren't looking for it, on the side just above the knob. Like someone had shouldered it hard.

"You're right," She says, "Someone definitely tried to get in here."

Holder calls for Jeb to take pictures of the door and the lock, while Sarah continues on around the room. It was your usual bedroom for a young boy; comics, laundry hamper full of clothes, baseball bat in the corner, a desk right under the window. Something catches her eye on the windowsill and she takes the few strides over to it. Small, but clearly visible, was a bloody finger print. Judging by the faint stain around it there had been a whole hand print, gripping the windowsill, that had been wiped away. The assailant hadn't been very thorough, however, and had left this behind.

"Holder!" She calls, turning back to him as he stands and walks quickly to her, "We got a partial over here." She looks over at Jeb, "Where the _hell _are the rest of your guys? We need them here now."

"Just talked to them," Jeb says, "Should be here in ten minutes."

"Don't get what's taking so long, we're only in Georgetown. Monorail's not that far away." Holder says, as irked as Sarah was that they had to wait for the Forensics team.

Jeb shrugs, "Shootings can be messy."

They ask him to get a few shots of the print, then leave the room and tape off the door, as it was now part of the crime scene. They walk down the hall and past the doorway to the kitchen, where Sarah spots an officer talking to a middle aged man at the kitchen table, the man had his face in his hands. _That must be the neighbor, _she thought. Then she notices a bottle of red wine and two empty wine glasses next to it on the counter. She stops and looks up at Holder, catching his eye as she points to the unopened bottle. He follows the line of her finger and sees it too. He looks back at her and nods his understanding. They both walk into the kitchen.

"Has this room been cleared?" Holder asks the officer sitting at the table.

The officer, an older woman, turns to them and says, "Yeah, first response said it was fine to use for Mr. Anglin to make a statement. Do you need us to move?"

"Yeah," Holder nods, "If you could drive Mr. Anglin here to the station, we'll question him when we're through with the scene."

The officer rises from her seat, as does Anglin, and Sarah sees his face is white as spoiled milk. He glances almost imperceptibly to the wine bottle on the counter, then blinks and quickly returns his eyes to his feet. Linden raises her eyebrows at this, then turns to see Holder do the same. Both had noticed the man's wandering eye.

* * *

Finally the Forensics guys arrive and Holder takes them through the house, showing them where to place their bright yellow markers and what visible evidence they had found. Sarah leaves him to this, deciding instead to make a quick sweep around the perimeter of the house before the rain could wash any possible evidence away. She immediately spots burned rubber tire tracks on the road, just a ways up from the house. She calls for a forensic team member to set up a tent over them, then tells another officer to ask around with the neighbors to see if they were recent and, if so, if they'd heard any cars squealing off last night.

She walks around the house, not seeing much of interest. She reaches the side of the house that has the window to the master bedroom, and could see perfectly the bloody show inside when she looks through. Sarah glances down at her feet, then immediately steps back, waving down the forensics guy who had just set up a tent over the tire tracks. On the ground below the window, a spot perfectly placed to peer in, were several cigarette butts. And next to those, quickly loosing shape as the rain fell in earnest, were large boot prints. Someone had stood outside of this window and watched Clare Burnett in her room. And then Claire Burnett was murdered.

* * *

A/N: Here's the new case! It was a bit gruesome at parts, I know, but it had to be done. SO great writing these characters now they are back at work, and it was a lot easier than I thought it would be, considering I've never written a mystery before. POV will alternate between the two, depending on who I feel can give the best perspective. I know the romance is progressing slowly, but that's how I feel it needs to be, since there wasn't much romance build up in the show. Be patient with me Holder and Linden shippers! As always, please review, cause I love them!


	7. Chapter 7

They sit in their office and Sarah looks around at the bare walls and white board, now devoid of any and all things Rosie Larsen. Most had been sent to county to be disposed of or stored, since the case was closed. Linden herself had packed the things she thought Stan and Mitch Larsen might like to keep in a box, and had left it outside their house when she'd left the video. It had felt, well, not _good _to get rid of all this stuff, more like a necessary purge. She could still see in her minds eye the pictures of Rosie in the trunk of that car, her skin white and wrinkled, and her nails broken off. Just as she could still see Adrian in the corner of that dark closet, clutching at himself and covered in his mothers dried blood. Sarah Linden had many horrible images branded into her brain.

Holder was sitting opposite her at his desk, leaning back in his swivel chair, a McDonalds burger in one hand. They had stopped there on their way to the station, Holder had tried to insist Linden eat something, but she had thrown him a glare that shut him up. They were now waiting in their office for the notes from the scene and the witness statements, then they would go and formally interview the neighbor, a Mr. Jon Anglin.

There was still no sign of young Jeremy, though a recent school photo of his had been sent to every station and newspaper in Washington, and the border into Canada had been notified as well. Without any leads there was nothing that they could do for the boy, except wait. No family member could be contacted, because it seemed Burnett had none. After a little digging the tech guys found out that both her parents were dead, been dead for years, and that she had no sisters or brothers. Sarah and Holder would be going to the office building where she worked tomorrow, to speak with her boss and fellow employes.

Holder chews his food and sighs through his nose. He swallows, "So we gunna talk about what happened earlier, or just sweep it under the rug?"

She scowls down at the paper she's looking at. It wasn't much, just the limited information they had on Burnett so far. A few parking tickets, some bank loans, credit card debt, that sort of thing. "Which part would you like to talk about?" She asks, flipping the page of the thin file, "Maybe our new case, or when you intentionally invaded my privacy?" She was being sarcastic, of course.

He sensed that, "Look, I'm sorry I went through your shit. It was a dick move, I know it. But how the hell else can I learn about you, you don't talk to me." He's finished his burger and throws the balled up wrapper toward the small garbage. It misses and hits the floor.

She thinks about that, "You could have just asked me. No need to go digging around like Nancy Drew." She says, her tone as sour as her face. She pops another piece of gum in her mouth from the pack on the desk and chews.

He smiles slightly, not enough to make her angrier, though, "I needed to go all _Nancy Drew_ on your ass, what else could I do? Askin' about your personal life is like pullin' teeth."

"Then don't be a dentist." She says curtly, not looking up from the pages.

He rolls his eyes, "Come on Linden, you know what I mean. You barely mentioned that old case with that kid and the trees, and you never said _anything _about your time in juvie or being put in a psych ward. Had to find out from that prick Carlson. These are the kinda things a partner should know." He watches her from across the desks, his hands folded over his chest as he leans back in the chair.

Sarah closes the file with a snap and shuts her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was feeling the beginnings of a headache in her temple, and the florescent lights of the office weren't helping. She should have eaten something like Holder said.

She opens her eyes and blinks, "It's not the kind of thing I advertise. Get off my back about it." Her temper was thin, growing thinner as her headache progressed. She closes her eyes tight and rests her forehead in her palm, her elbow braced against the desk. She hears Holder click his tongue, but he doesn't push her anymore, thankfully. Maybe she should have finished up her leave, let Holder take the reins on this one. But Sarah knew that she would have regretted it, she's always hated coming in halfway through a case. She can never get a grip on it unless she's there from the start.

Linden exhales a big lung full of air. She hears Holder open up a drawer of his desk, but doesn't look up until she feels him place something in front of her. She opens her eyes to see him standing over her, having just placed a pill bottle of Advil on her desk, a bottle of water in his outstretched hand. Her eyes soften as she looks up at him and silently takes the water, nodding in thanks. He nods back, sinking his hands deep into his pockets and shrugs sheepishly. "You should eat. I'll grab you somethin' from the vending machine."

He turns and leaves the office, and she watches him through the large windows that make up two of the office walls. Though the gesture had been small, she took it as what it was, a peace offering. She was touched that Holder knew her enough to read her so well. Sarah sighs and opens the Advil, shakes out two pills, throws out her gum and pops them in her mouth. She reaches for the water bottle, twists off the lid and takes several big swigs. It takes a few minutes but Linden thinks she's starting to feel better, so she downs some more of her water and waits patiently for Holder to come back.

There is a knock at the door and she looks up to see a young officer, whose name she _thinks _is Johansen, standing in the doorway with a Manila file in his hands, "Here are the notes Holder asked for, also got the crime scene photos and witness statements in there. Coroner just started the autopsy, and that partial is being run through the system now, no hits yet though."

Linden gestures for him to hand her the file, which he does. She asks "Do we know if that hand print in the bathroom belongs to our vic yet?"

Johansen nods, "Yep, it's Burnett's, in her blood too. Labs still processing everything, but it looks like all the blood came from the victim."

Sarah nods too, "Any word on the boy, Jeremy?"

The officer's face falls slightly. He just shakes his head.

"And the tire tracks?" She asks, both of them thinking the same thing about the boy, _it's not looking good._

"The lab's still working on it, they say they're most likely from a truck or SUV. We asked around with the neighbors who say they don't remember seeing the tracks before, but they also said that they didn't hear any kind of commotion last night, so..." He trails off, shrugging.

Just then Holder rounds the corner and enters the office, his hands full of tiny chip bags and packs of corn nuts. He greets the officer as he walks to their desks, then passes the snacks off to Linden while she hands him the file. They trade off and he opens the file and quickly flips through it, reading all the things Linden has just been told.

She looks back at the officer and asks, "You still got Anglin in interrogation?"

"Yep, just got him some coffee. He's not too happy to be kept waiting, I can tell you that."

Holder snorts, "We all got our little problems today, don't we?" It was rhetorical.

Johansen smiles weakly, "Anyway, he's ready when you are." With that the young officer turns and heads down the hall out of sight. Linden breaks open a bag of potato chips and stuffs a handful into her mouth, munching away happily. Holder sits at his desk and reaches for the water bottle between them, taking a long draw from it before returning it to her, he then breaks open his own pack of corn nuts. She takes a few more bites, then says "Switch ya." And she trades Holder the bag of chips for the corn nuts.

Sarah swallows. "We should probably start questioning Anglin."

Holder shrugs, throws a chip into his mouth and chews, "Nah, you finish eating first. He can wait." He continues flipping through the file.

She smiles. "Anything we didn't already know in his statement?"

Holder sucks one of his fingers clean, "Nope. Claims he didn't really know Burnett much, just talked to her in passing. Says he was home sick from work today, got a call from a colleague of Claire's at around two-thirty this afternoon sayin' she didn't show for work..." He trails off, looking pensively at the paper before him.

Sarah waits, finishing with the nuts and moving onto some more chips. She quickly grows impatient, "What?"

"Well," He licks his lips, "How did the friend - who's named Alison Dain BTW - how did she know his name and number? Since Anglin and the vic supposedly didn't know each other well. I mean, I don't know any o' my friends' neighbors names."

Sarah wonders briefly who these friends of his might be, but then realizes that he's got a point there. "You're right, she wouldn't. Not unless they were closer than Anglin claims, don't forget how he looked at the wine bottle today."

Holder nods, then looks up to see Linden finishing her latest bag of chips. "Aight, let's get this over with. We still gotta finish unpacking all your stuff later." He stands from his chair and waits for her by the door. The look he gives her is questioning, like he's waiting for her to scream that he's not welcome in her home. Sarah realizes that she's really not all that angry at him anymore, even happy that his offer to help her still stands.

She smiles again, but doesn't get up. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

"You did good today, at the scene." Sarah says. "Really sounded like a detective."

He nods sheepishly and looks at his feet, hands in his pockets. She thinks he must not get compliments often.

She says "You sounded like a pro."

* * *

Jon Anglin is sitting hunched over the metal table in interrogation, both hands hugging the mug of coffee before him. He was drumming his fingers impatiently against the cup. On his face he wears a scowl.

"He looks like a royal prick." Holder observes as they both watch him through the two-way mirror, leaning against the table in the dark room that connects the two smaller interrogation rooms. Sarah nods her agreement.

With a big sigh Holder pushes himself from off the table, as does Sarah, and they both walk to the door separating them from Anglin. Holder opens it and Sarah walks through, with him following immediately after.

"Hello there, Mr. Anglin," Sarah starts, "I'm detective Linden, this is my partner detective Holder," He gives a mock solute, "And we're here to ask you some questions."

Holder takes the seat opposite the man at the table, Linden falling back to lean against a wall in the corner. They had spoken before hand and agreed that Holder would lead the interrogation.

Anglin sniffs impatiently, "I don't understand what's taken you so long, I've been sitting here for over an hour."

Holder leans back in his chair, extending his legs out lazily, "We've been kinda busy, y'know, tryin' to solve the brutal murder of your neighbor n'all. Considering it happened like fifty feet from your house, you'd think you'd be more than happy to help."

"Look," Anglin says, his voice dripping in frustration, "I've been cooperative. I told the lady cop everything I knew. Haven't you read my statement?"

"Yes, surprisingly we have." Sarah says, sardonically, "And now we'd like to hear it from you. Tell us a little about your relationship with Ms. Burnett."

Anglin huffs, "I wouldn't call it a relationship. I hardly knew the woman."

Both Sarah and Stephen remain in silence after Anglin's statement, watching him squirm under their combined stare.

"I've talked to her a few times, obviously, I mean I live right next to them." He admits, "Her kid always throws his ball over our fence."

"You ever talk to the boy? Jeremy?" Sarah asks.

"No, never. I've never spoken with anyone but her, until today when her friend called-"

"How'd she know your number?" Stephen cuts in.

"What?" Anglin turns back forward and stares at Holder.

"Alison Dain," Holder says, "Claire's friend from work. How'd she know your number?"

The man shifts in his seat. "She... I guess she found it in Claire's desk. How should I know?"

Holder puts on a face of mock thoughtfulness, "Sure, she could've done that. But how'd she know which name to look under, if you and Claire _barely knew each other_? I doubt she'd have it listed under N for neighbor."

Sarah held back her smile, keeping her expression passive. Leave it to Holder to make wise cracks at a time like this. Though this noticeably stumped Anglin. "I don't know." was all he said.

Right then there was a knock on the glass. Both turn and Stephen looks to Sarah, who nods towards the door and Holder understands that to mean that she'll see who it is. Holder turns back to Anglin, his hands flat against the table. Linden opens the door and closes it smoothly behind her. Johansen was standing there, looking antsy. "What's up?" She asks.

Johansen takes a deep breath in, "Coroner's not done with the autopsy, but she wanted me to let you know that Burnett had sex an hour or two before time of death, which was around seven o'clock last night. There was no sign of trauma, so it was most likely consensual."

Linden raises her eyebrows, thinking back to the silk night slip Claire was wearing, and the bottle of wine with two glasses out on the counter. Unopened though. She asks if they had been tested for prints yet. He nods and says "Burnett's are all over both, but there's another pair that's not in the system."

She thanks the officer and turns back to the door and calls Holder into the small, darker room. He tells Anglin that he'll be right back, then follows her and closes the door. Sarah tells him everything she had just been told, and he shows the same weak surprise.

He shrugs and says "Would explain the wine glasses. And the mystery prints, they gotta be Anglin's."

She nods "Only one way to be sure."

They enter the room again, Holder sitting back at the table. Sarah walks closer to the man now, glowering down at him as she leans on the table. "Mr. Anglin, what were your whereabouts last night, from approximately five to ten P.M.?"

He looked affronted, "Am I being asked to provide an alibi for myself?"

"She never said that. Just asked you what you were doing." Holder snaps.

He shrugs, "I was at home, of course. Watching t.v."

"Can anyone account for that?"

He sighs irritably, "No, my wife was working late. She got home around eleven, just like I told that other cop."

"So you'd have no problem submittin' your finger prints and DNA. Just to help with the investigation, obviously."

He drums his fingers across the table. "Why would you need that?"

"To rule out any prints you may have left at the scene. It's simply protocol." Sarah says, calmly.

"I've told you! I didn't touch anything."

"Yeah, but the thing is, we don't believe you." Holder says.

Linden nearly snorts in amusement.

Anglin folds his arms over his chest and leans back in the chair, looking like a grumpy old man. "Don't you need a warrant for that?"

Holder and Linden look pointedly at one another, then back at Jon. "Yes, if you make us. Though I suggest you don't, it would reflect poorly on you. Impeding the investigation into the murder of a neighbor? What would your wife think?" Sarah asks with a benign sneer.

Holder really does snort with laughter. Anglin doesn't answer.

"Lemme tell you what I think." Holder claps his hands in front of him as he says this, then brings them to rest on the table, his long fingers interlocked. "_I _think you were sleeping with her. I think she told Dain about it, and _that's _how Dain knew which name to look under."

"That's ridiculous, I'm a married man."

Stephen shrugs easily, "Most adulterers are."

Anglin looks away from them and stares at the wall, his cheeks growing red and his brow furrowed.

"Oh come on, man to man." Holder presses, leaning forward, his voice low, "You never even _thought_ about slippin' it to her, having a little sugar on the side? Easy enough, with her livin' right next door. Wife never needs to know a thing, she's working late anyway. I bet you've at least imagined it, any guy would. Burnett looked like a pretty lady, apart from being dead an' all."

"You're wrong." States Anglin, with shaky conviction.

"Now, I think I'm right." He leans back again, "So your tellin' me that when we interview Ms. Alison Dain, she wont know nothing about you, other than your being Burnett's neighbor?"

He gulps audibly. _What an idiot, _Linden thinks. "No, she won't."

"So you're sayin' that when we supeena your DNA, which we'll do, that it won't match the semen found during the autopsy?" This was a bluff, Sarah knew, for no such thing had yet been found in Brennet. Still, it seemed to be working, Anglin's resolve was teetering noticeably.

"And the prints found on the wine glasses," Holder continues, "I bet those don't belong to you, either."

There was a moment of silence as Linden watches Anglin's resolve teeter, before at last it crumbles completely. "Look, I... I was sleeping with her, yeah," He confesses, then hastens to explain, "But it only happened a few times, I swear! I love my wife, I really do but... I just couldn't help myself." He bows his head.

"We are not here to judge you for your indiscretions, Mr. Anglin, we're here to find out who murdered Claire Brennet. Now tell us what happened last night." Linden's voice was strong and severe.

Anglin inhales, pauses, then launches into his story. He had gone over to Burnett's house at around four-thirty, right when he had got off work. She had brought out the wine but they'd just headed straight for the bedroom. After they were done she got a phone call from someone.

"Who?"

Anglin shrugs, "I dunno, she didn't say, but the voice sounded like a man's. Anyway, she looked kinda rattled and asked me to leave. I did."

Holder huffs with indignation, "You left? Just like that? What a gentleman."

Linden jumps in before Anglin could reply, "You said she looked rattled, tell us more. What exactly did she say on the phone?"

Anglin brings his hands to his face again, "I'm not sure, I can't really remember. She... She got sort of aggravated, I _think _she mentioned Jeremy-"

"Where was Jeremy, y'know, while you guys were having your adult time." Holder asks. He's drumming his fingers against the table and his knee was bobbing impatiently. Sarah goes to stand behind his chair and places her hand on the back of it, hoping to calm him. She thinks it does because he stops tapping his foot.

"He wasn't there, obviously. He was at a friends house I think. I saw him get dropped off about a half hour after I left."

"How convenient." Holder says snidely.

Anglin throws him a look. "Do you know the name of the friends house he was at?" Sarah asks.

"No. Listen, we keep our lives separate, Claire and me. It's just physical. She's got her own thing going on, with Jeremy and her meetings, she doesn't have time-"

"Meetings?" Holder cuts in, "What meetings?"

Anglin raises his eyebrows, "Her N/A group, over in Beacon Hill I think. I dropped her off there a couple months ago, that's the only reason I know. She never talked about it."

Sarah looks down at Holder and sees his eyes trained on the table, now somehow vacant.

Anglin sneers, "You didn't even know she was in recovery, did you? Some detectives you are." Linden throws him a nasty glare and he lowers his face. Holder doesn't say anything, and Sarah knows something's wrong.

She goes to the door and calls for an officer to take Anglin's DNA swab and prints, "Take your time," She mutters to the uniform, "I want the guy to sweat it out a little."

Holder follows wordlessly out of the interrogation room and back to their office, his eyes on his shoes. He falls into his chair but she remains standing, and they sit in silence for a few minutes before she grows exasperated and asks, "Holder, what the hell? Why'd you clam up in there?"

He sighs, his leg once again beginning to twitch. "The N/A place he mentioned, that's where I go." He pauses, and his face looks troubled, "I think I talked to her once, Claire. And I didn't even remember, with the anonymousness I didn't get her last name, y'know." He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. Sarah purses her lips and walks towards him placing her hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her and there is such sad vulnerability in his eyes that she just wants to take him in her arms and hug him. Fighting this overpowering temptation she hears hurried footsteps and they break eye contact to stare out the windows of the office. Officers were hurrying past.

Johansen appears at the door, out of breath. "Detective Linden, there was a call about the body of a young boy being found, we think it might be the Burnett boy."

Sarah feels herself sag against the desk and senses Holder wilt in his chair as well. A double murder. No child to be saved.

"Where was he found?" Sarah asks, her voice strained.

Johansen looks sick, and swallows hard. "He was found in the Kent Highlands landfill. The bastard left him at a dump."

xx


End file.
